


Blackout

by batastrophe



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Dick/Babs - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Identity Reveal, Secret Identity, Spitfire - Freeform, Young Justice - Freeform, justice league - Freeform, time skip, unmasking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batastrophe/pseuds/batastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her mission for the rest of the night was clear to Artemis; firstly, keep Nightwing alive. Secondly, protect his identity. If only she knew what it was, it might be easier to protect. Artemis and Nightwing friendship only. Eventual unmasking. T for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blackout

**Chapter 1: Blackout**

**Gotham City**  
**March 14, 18:09 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

"Dick, your work in my class has been excellent. You've had the top score in five out of the past six exams this year. But I can't help but notice that you're not fully engaged with the material. I think this course is too easy for you. Honestly, Dick, I'm beginning to wonder if Gotham University can offer enough challenges for you. With your test scores and achievements, you could have gone to any of the Ivy Leagues."

Dick shifted in his chair across the desk from his academic advisor and suppressed a sigh. He could have told Professor Monahan  _that_. While many of his classmates spent the weeks after an exam cursing Monahan's name and trying desperately to transfer into other science courses, Dick was scoring over a hundred percent and drifting off during lectures, when he actually attended. It wasn't that he had anything against the course, but for the first time in his life Dick had the option of not showing up at school without raising any red flags. After all, what college freshman didn't skip out on a few lectures here and there?

The truth was, Dick hadn't wanted to go to college at all; he had far more important things to be doing than getting a degree he couldn't see the point in. But the disadvantage of being a child prodigy was that Dick was still underage. He'd graduated from Gotham Academy at 16 and whatever his own wishes were, he wasn't truly independent. He may have cast aside his mantle of Robin in favor of Nightwing, but he was still Bruce Wayne's ward and Bruce wanted him to go to school. After several bouts of impassioned arguments from Dick met with periods of stony silence from Bruce, they had reached an agreement, or more of a compromise: Dick would go to school until he was at least 18, at which time he could either complete his degree or drop out; the choice would be his.

Now Dick was 17, in his second semester at Gotham U, sitting in his advisor's office and being lectured on how he was too smart to be there, which he already knew, and gazing absently out the window waiting until he could leave. What he wanted to say to Professor Monahan was that yes, the course wasn't particularly challenging and he'd much rather be spending his time training or helping Kaldur, Superboy, M'gann, and other team members who were unencumbered with secret identities on more missions, and that in fact a college degree was next to useless in his line of work and that he was growing increasingly tired of keeping up a tedious double life.

What he said instead was, "I needed to stay close to my family."

"Of course," said Monahan, looking slightly shamefaced. "It must be a difficult time. Has there been any news?"

Dick's stomach sank. Of course he had known that Monahan would assume he was referring to his younger brother Jason's disappearance. No one in Gotham had managed  _not_ to hear how the second Wayne son had vanished, presumably running away one dark night, never to be seen or heard from again. But Dick knew the truth; Jason was dead, and he was never coming back.

"No," he said, looking back out the window where the Elliot Bridge's lights were just flickering on for the evening. "Nothing." More than ever, he wanted to leave. He was tired of talking about a future that didn't matter. If anything had taught him that he couldn't leave being Nightwing behind, it was Jason's death. He had to carry on the fight.

Monahan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Regardless, Dick, I think you should transfer into a higher level science course. You clearly already understand the basic tenants of evolutionary theory, but I've got a great upper division class that takes a specific look at speciation of Northwestern Snipes—Goodness!"

Monahan was cut off mid-sentence as the power went out, plunging the room into an eerie twilight, illuminated only from the weak late-afternoon sun filtering in through the window.

"I'll call Larry, see if it's just our building or a larger problem," said Monahan, fumbling for his cell phone in the dim light. "Does it look like the rest of campus has gone out as well?"

From the 10th story window, Dick had a perfect view of not only campus, but downtown and the distant Elliot Bridge, all of which had, until moments before, been lit up in preparation for the approaching night. Dick turned back to Monahan, who was repeatedly pressing the "call" button on his phone to no avail. "I think it's more than just campus, professor," said Dick. "The whole city…it's  _dark_."

* * *

 

 **Gotham City**  
**March 14, 18:09 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

"So then Saterstrom says he doesn't think we've done the reading and pulls a freaking pop quiz on us. What is this, high school? I mean, aren't we above all that now? You'd think he'd have a bit more faith in us."

"Wally,  _had_  you actually done the reading?"

"You're kinda missing the point, babe."

"So that's a 'No,' then. Wally, it would literally take you about thirty seconds to do it. I don't see why you're complaining."

"Super-speed does not negate how extremely boring it would have been. And psychology isn't even a real science."

"Whatever, Baywatch. Listen, my bus is about to pull up." Artemis was standing on a curb in Gotham City, surrounded by three bags of groceries at her feet, and craning her neck to spot the approaching bus.

"Crap, Artemis, I didn't even ask. How's your mom? How's Gotham?"

Artemis jammed her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she stooped to pick up her bulging grocery bags. "Cold, dirty, and my bus was late," said Artemis. The bus driver glared at her as she clambered on board and struggled to swipe her metro card while juggling the three bags. "Home, sweet home." Artemis shouldered her way through the packed bus to the roomiest piece of aisle she could find, jammed between a business man in a suit and an old granny clutching a bag of recyclables. "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate public transit?"

"Only about a hundred times," said Wally. "Your mom doing alright?"

"More or less. I can't wait until I can get her out of that crummy apartment though. I had to go halfway across town just to find some fresh vegetables."

"California's spoiled you."

"Tell me something I don't know. Listen, Wally, do your stupid reading, okay? I'll call you tonight."

"Fine. Love you, babe."

"I love you too. Bye."

Artemis hung up the phone and readjusted her grip on the bags. It was March and the weather was in that awful period where the streets were flanked with melted and re-frozen piles of filthy snow and every gutter was filled with a sluggish stream of slush. Gotham was indeed dirty, cold, and unpleasant, especially after hauling around three heavy bags and getting dirty looks from her fellow passengers for talking on the phone while riding public transit. Artemis sighed. She wanted to be home in California, with Wally. But it was her mom's birthday this weekend. She didn't get out a lot, and with dad out of the picture and Jade off doing who-knows-what, there wasn't anyone around to celebrate it with her. Artemis and her mother didn't always see eye to eye, but out of all her family members, her mom was the only one to support her, both in becoming a hero and in retiring from it to go to college. She didn't deserve to be alone for her birthday.

Artemis was pulled suddenly out of her thoughts as the bus driver slammed on the brakes and the bus lurched to a halt, sending its passengers stumbling and screaming. Artemis grabbed the old lady by the shoulders, keeping her from colliding face-first with the metal support pole. Her groceries flew to the floor, their contents rolling every which way.

"Just  _fantastic_ ," Artemis muttered as she bent down to collect her now slightly-trampled produce.

"Is everyone okay?"

"What's going on?"

_"Who the hell taught you how to drive!?"_

"Everyone, remain calm!" bellowed the bus driver over the hubbub. "There's been some kind of accident up ahead, and things might take a little while from this point on." All at once everyone started talking, shouting questions, and loudly complaining. The bus driver stood up, towering over the passengers, "Everybody, either stay in your seats, or exit the vehicle  _now_."

Clutching her ruined groceries, Artemis wrestled her way to the front of the bus. "I think I'll get out here, if it's all the same to you."

"Be my guest," said the driver, yanking on the door release lever.

Artemis clambered off the bus and into chaos. A few car-lengths ahead of her, the center of the intersection was blocked by a taxi that had been t-boned by another car, littering the road with shattered glass. No one seemed to have been seriously injured; the two drivers were standing in the intersection shouting and gesticulating wildly at the stoplight. The lights in all four directions were dim and gray. She could see downhill toward the east for four traffic lights and another three to her right toward the south. None of them were on. It had been in the middle of rush hour and in all four directions there was a crushing gridlock. All around her horns were blaring and people were leaning out of their windows shouting. Above her, the electronic billboards had fizzled out and in the towering buildings on either side not a single office or conference room was lit. The only lights illuminating Gotham's quickly-darkening streets were headlights from the bumper-to-bumper cars; all the streetlamps had blinked out too.

"Shit," said Artemis, and made her way toward the sidewalk. She fished out her phone, thinking to call her mom and tell her she'd be late, but when she hit the "call" button nothing happened. She switched over to texting, but all her messages failed to send. Frustrated, and with the beginnings of a headache from all the blaring car horns, Artemis pocketed her phone.

Where was the GCPD, or an ambulance? Straining her ears over the cacophony, she could hear sirens, but they didn't sound like they were coming in this direction. Something wasn't right. The GCPD should have arrived to direct traffic and clear the accident. Slowly, Artemis did a 360. All around her, people were frustratedly punching the buttons on their phones and holding them up and out of car windows as though searching for a signal. Next to her, a taxi driver was furiously jabbing the dials of the cab's radio, only to get static on every station. Looking down to the water in the east, Artemis could just see the top of the Elliot Bridge, which had recently been decorated with a public art piece called "River Lights," a display of over 25,000 LEDs that created brilliant designs along the bridge's western span.

It was dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this is going to be a longer, multi-chapter fic. I've already written about ~1800 words and the first 5 or 6 chapters, so we'll see how it goes. Please leave a review if you enjoyed it, and I hope to see you for chapter 2! ;)
> 
> Also, in case anyone is confused, this is taking place in 2014, before season 2. I'm not following the canon exactly, because when I got the idea for this I wasn't aware of the video game and what it establishes about Artemis and Wally retiring, etc. I think everything else should explain itself!
> 
> Also, I mention the lights on the bridge in this chapter, which I based on the real life "Bay Lights" display in San Francisco. You can see what that looks like here: https://grist.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/baylights_1.gif?w=470&h=291


	2. Reunion

**Chapter 2: Reunion**

**Gotham City**  
**March 14, 18:53 EST**  
 **Team Year Four**

Artemis wandered, slightly dazed, down the boulevard. Every cross-street she came to was jammed with gridlock. As she has walked, she learned three things for certain; first, everywhere she went was without electricity. Second, all electronic communication systems were down. No phone calls, no texting, even the radios were out. The third thing she learned, as she experimented with her cellphone while walking, was that the internet was also impossible to access. It was like it had blipped out of existence.

There was no doubt in Artemis’s mind that this was no accident. A city-wide blackout she could have accepted, but no telephone, radio, or internet either? There was no way it was a coincidence. If you wanted to bring a city to a standstill and create mass confusion while you were at it, this was the way to do it; someone was behind this.

Drivers abandoned their cars and the streets filled with pedestrians trying to find their way home. Already, Artemis had been stopped five times by tourists who had no idea how to navigate Gotham without the aid of their smartphones. A lone mounted police officer was trying to maintain a sense of order as dozens of people crowded around her, demanding answers.

Artemis really should have gone home; her mother was probably worried about her, and this really wasn’t her job anymore. She and Wally were _retired_. But though it wasn’t her job to try and save Gotham anymore, she didn’t see why it should stop her from trying to contact those who should be. She didn’t have an earpiece anymore, and if even if she had, it probably wouldn’t have worked. But she knew where the Zeta entrances were.

Provided they were working, anyways. Artemis honestly didn’t know what to expect as she turned down the alley that housed the broken phone booth Zeta-Beam. On the one hand, Zetas were advanced technology and might have gone unaffected by the communications blackout. On the other hand, they might be just as useless as her cellphone was.

“I thought you were retired,” said a voice directly behind her.

Artemis jumped a foot in the air and whipped around into a fighting stance, sending her groceries flying for the second time that day. The figure grabbed her fists before she could throw a punch and yelped, “Cool it, Artemis, it’s just me!” Artemis squinted in the half-light at the person in front of her. It was Nightwing, formerly known as Robin, her friend and former teammate. He was wearing civvies, his signature sunglasses, and a self-satisfied smirk.

“ _Shit_ ,” said Artemis. “You scared the crap out of me. Do you always have to sneak around like a ninja?”

“It’s my specialty,” he grinned, and released her fists. “And I have to say, I wasn’t exactly expecting to run into you here either. Aren’t you supposed to be in California?”

Artemis shrugged and looked ruefully at her scattered groceries. “It’s my mom’s birthday this weekend. I _was_ going to cook her dinner tonight, but at this point I’m beginning to think that’s not gonna happen.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Nightwing, wincing at the strewn produce. “I didn’t mean to make you jump so much.” Artemis shrugged again. It’s not like there’d even be a working stove to cook on when she got home, anyways. “So I’m guessing you came over here to check on the Zeta-Tubes?” asked Nightwing. “Unless you make it a habit to wander around the seedier portions of Gotham when you could be at home with your family.”

“And I’m going to guess that they’re down, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing around in said seedy alley in your civvies,” she replied.

Nightwing scowled behind his sunglasses and shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. “You guessed right,” he said. “Zeta’s down like everything else. No electricity, no internet, no communications. It’s possible the computers at the Batcave are still functional; we’ve got a generator and an independent network. But my wrist computer relies on external networks and the earpieces are nonfunctional, so I have no way of contacting Batman or anyone from the League. And I’m a few hours’ hike away from the Cave with no costume and no faster way to get there.”

“Yeah, well I don’t have my bow and arrows, let alone a costume, and I’m supposed to be retired,” said Artemis. It was getting dark and Artemis wondered how Nightwing could see anything with those sunglasses on, but she knew better than to ask. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen her friend in nearly a year. In fact, the last time she’d seen him in the flesh had been at the second Robin’s memorial dedication. He’d gotten taller, she noticed, and even in his civvies she could see that his once thin frame was filling out with lean muscle. He was finally beginning to grow into his ears. “I’ve missed you,” she said, surprising herself.

Nightwing looked up at her and gave her a half-smile. “Missed me or missed the job?”

“Both,” she replied, giving him a half-smile of her own.

Nightwing’s grin broadened. “So, are you in then? I could use your help.”

A part of her wanted to say no. She was retired. It wasn’t her responsibility anymore. Gotham had a whole team of superheroes already. And she had no weapons, no costume, and no mask.

“Yeah,” she said instead. “I’m in.”

Nightwing grinned. “Astrous. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Slightly shorter chapter this week, but next week will be a lot longer and have a lot of action! Just so you all know, I am planning on updating once a week, on Wednesdays if I can. So stay tuned, next week is an exciting chapter! :) Please commet and share your thoughts.


	3. Distraught

**Chapter 3: Distraught**

**Gotham City**  
**March 14, 19:02 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

“First things first,” said Nightwing. “Inventory.”

The two of them were standing in the darkening alleyway, surrounded by battered and abandoned produce. Artemis blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and made a face.

“I’ve got nothing.”

“You’ve got your fists and your reflexes,” said Nightwing. “Have you kept up your training?”

“Not quite as intensively as when I was on the team, but I still work out. You’re looking at one of Stanford’s martial arts champs.”

“Good. You’ll be able to give most people a run for their money if you can still spar like you did when you were on the team.” Artemis shelved the compliment away for later; it wasn’t every day that Nightwing praised just anyone on their hand to hand fighting technique. “As for me,” he continued, “I’m missing my costume, but I’ve got my utility belt, wrist computer, and earpiece. Not that the last two are any good at the moment,” he muttered.

“Utility belt is good, though,” said Artemis. “Why do you have that and not your costume?”

“I never go anywhere without the belt. You never know what might happen.”

“Ah, there’s that Bat paranoia again. I’ve missed it,” said Artemis glibly.

“Ha, ha. Come on. Let’s walk and talk,” said Nightwing and set out at a brisk pace out of the alley. “The first thing we’ve got to figure out is how whoever did this managed to…do this. A simultaneous system failure of this magnitude is unprecedented.”

“Could it be some sort of large-scale EMP pulse, like the one we used at the Cave?” asked Artemis, referring to the time she and Robin fought off Red Torpedo and Red Inferno at Mount Justice.

“Not likely,” said Nightwing, pulling out his iPhone. He hit the home button, illuminating the screen. “There’s nothing wrong with individual pieces of hardware themselves. They just can’t access any of the networks. I thought at first it might just be a result of the power outage—enough cellular providers could have lost power that the remaining functional towers were overloaded.”

“But a power outage shouldn’t affect the radios or your earpiece. Not to mention the internet.”

“Exactly. And not just those—telephone landlines aren’t working either, and those aren’t reliant on the power grid. It’s possible that whatever caused all this came from a physical attack somewhere—especially with the power grid. But the rest?”

“It doesn’t seem likely that someone could coordinate so many physical attacks.” said Artemis, understanding. “Could we be dealing with a hacker, or some sort of virus?” she asked.

“Maybe,” frowned Nightwing. “They’re both plausible. Whatever it is, it probably caused some sort of cascading effect. But I don’t know how whoever did this could simultaneously disrupt _everything_. Honestly, it’s like living in the dark ages,” he said, staring ruefully at his phone.

Artemis snorted, despite herself. “Isn’t it just my luck to end up with the technology addict during a technological catastrophe? You’re either going to be the key to fixing this or a pain in the ass the whole time.”

“I could be both,” he said, flashing a grin. Artemis rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the edge of her mouth from quirking up into the beginnings of a smile. “Whatever’s gone wrong, I think the key to fixing it is going to be getting back online,” he continued. “The only way to cause an internet failure like this is through software somehow.”

“Okay, but how are you going to do that? Internet’s down city-wide.”

“Just because internet’s inaccessible at the moment doesn’t mean it’s disappeared,” said Nightwing. “It’s like I said earlier; the Batcave’s security features may have protected the system from being corrupted. It’s possible I can get online from there.”

“And if not?” asked Artemis.

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Regardless, getting to the Batcave is the first step.”

“Sounds like as good a plan as any,” said Artemis. “But there’s something bothering me. I was walking around the city for nearly an hour and there was no sign of the League anywhere. There’s no way that the Watchtower didn’t notice Gotham go dark. So why haven’t they sent anyone down? They have to know that the GCPD alone won’t be able to handle this situation.”

Nightwing frowned. “I’ve been wondering that myself,” he said darkly. “It is possible that this is just a side-effect of something bigger the League is already dealing with.”

“Maybe,” said Artemis, “but what if this is bigger than Gotham? Maybe the League isn’t here because they’re needed _everywhere_.”

“I’ve thought of that too,” said Nightwing quietly. “Look, Artemis,” he said, turning to face her and drawing her to a halt. Underneath his sunglasses his face was serious. “I want you to know that I trust you.” He scratched the side of his head and fingered the edge of his sunglasses. He was glancing downward, toward the ground while he searched for his words, but Artemis was distracted by a reflection caught in his sunglasses. There was something on the roof behind her…

“I don’t tell this to just anyone, but—”

“DOWN!” shouted Artemis, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to the ground.  Gunfire pinged off the concrete behind where Nightwing had been standing. In a few quick movements Nightwing registered the gunfire and the shooter, then grabbed Artemis’s wrist and pulled her down a side street.

“Isn’t this just our luck,” said Artemis haltingly as she ran. “First a communications emergency, now a freaking _sniper_. How the hell did he know to target _us_?”

“Did you see who the shooter was?” demanded Nightwing, hurtling around a corner.

“No,” said Artemis, who was right on his heels. “Just a shadow in the reflection of your shades.”

Nightwing came to an abrupt halt and stopped Artemis from turning the next corner by thrusting an arm in front of her. He put a finger to his lips. Peering carefully around the corner, the two of them could see a pair of gunmen approaching down the alley. “This way,” whispered Nightwing, and set out down another side street.

“Mr. Grayson!” a voice echoed down the alley. “We know you’re here. Come out and we won’t have to hurt the girl.”

Artemis glanced at Nightwing, who had gone considerably paler. “Robin, what—” she said, unthinkingly.

Nightwing clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t call me that,” he breathed.

Artemis wrenched his hand away with a scowl, “Sorry, Nightwing—”

“ _No_ ,” he whispered. “ _They can’t know who I am_.” He grabbed her arm and towed her away only to pull her back behind a dumpster as two more armed assailants, a man and woman, approached from the other distant end of the alley.

“ _I_ don’t even know who you really are,” whispered Artemis exasperatedly. “I can take the two on the left if you get the two on the right—”

“No, you don’t understand. _Listen to me_ ,” he said, his grip on Artemis’s arm tightening. “I don’t know how, but I must have had a tail since I left campus—”

“ _Campus_?” demanded Artemis.

“ _Stupid!_ ” he said, ignoring her, “amateur mistake!”

“Hey!” she said and grabbed the sides of his head, forcing him to look at her. “ _Get traught, or get dead_ , remember?”

The agents were nearly upon them. It was act now or get killed; Artemis chose to act.

She sprang out from behind the dumpster; Artemis dodged a blow from a female assailant, swung her leg out and dropped, sweeping her opponent off her feet. Her gun flew into the air and Artemis caught it, then charged the male gunman. Her second opponent fired a few short blasts that Artemis avoided by feinting to the left and then going right, and then slammed the butt of her rifle against her enemy’s jaw with a resounding crack.

Artemis spun around. Her first opponent was just getting to her feet. Behind her, Nightwing was only just barely dodging his enemy’s punches. She didn’t have time to yell at him to get with the program though; her attacker was upon her. They exchanged blows while Nightwing backed himself further and further into a corner. At what appeared to be the last moment, he suddenly jumped up, lithely catching the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder and slamming his feet into the chest of his first opponent. The man fell backwards and hit his head on the concrete; he was out cold. Nightwing flipped himself onto the fire escape platform in an overly acrobatic move and fled to the roof, pursued by the second assailant.

Artemis tore her attention away from Nightwing to dodge a blow from her attacker. He was going to have to take care of himself for now. But what was he playing at? She knew how well Nightwing could fight. Why wasn’t he going on the offensive? Why was he running away?

* * *

**Gotham City**  
**March 14, 19:18 EST  
** **Team Year Four**

Dick flipped onto the edge roof, landing in a crouch before springing away again onto the tiles. He wasn’t worried about Artemis, he knew she could handle herself. He was worried about himself.

The gunman had called him Grayson. Which meant that somehow, he’d been followed since he was on campus earlier that day. How much had his assailants heard? But no, they couldn’t know he was Nightwing. If they had been close enough to overhear his conversation with Artemis, he knew he would have spotted them. Plus, if they knew they were dealing with two affiliates of the Justice League, they would have brought more reinforcements. That only left one conclusion; whoever these people were, they were after Dick Grayson, not Nightwing, and the most important thing was making sure they never connected that those two were the same person.

And Dick Grayson was certainly _not_ known for his fighting prowess. At Gotham Academy, Dick had let bullies push him around for the sake of maintaining his secret identity; his only satisfaction had been that time he had embarrassed Bobby Bolton by soundly humiliating him in the gymnastics competition in gym class. But everyone knew Dick Grayson was a circus brat, and right now, that was the only weapon in his arsenal that he could rely upon. Dick Grayson the acrobat; it would have to do.

Dick sprinted along the rooftop as his attacker clambered onto the roof behind him. Without pausing to look back, Dick leaped and grabbed the vertical pole of an antenna, his momentum swinging him around in a 180 and his feet connected squarely with his opponent’s chest, knocking the larger man backward. Dick lightly leapt free and ran back in the direction he’d come. He wanted to get Artemis at his back; his attackers might buy a couple lucky hits from the acrobatic Dick Grayson, but he wasn’t sure how much he could really get away with before it became suspicious. But before he could reach the roof ledge, a new opponent appeared from the shadow of a chimney. Dick mentally scolded himself. It was the original shooter. He should have counted on a fifth attacker making an appearance.

“Mr. Grayson,” said the shooter, coming out of the shadows. He was a tall, heavily muscled man wearing a smooth, white mask. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be accompanied by a bodyguard. I’d quite like to know how you summoned her after the blackout. But it’s no matter.”

“What do you want?” demanded Dick. Inwardly, he was relieved. If the shooter thought Artemis was a bodyguard, then he surely didn’t know Dick was really Nightwing.

“Revenge,” replied the masked man.

Dick blinked. Could he be wrong about the villain having discovered his identity? “Revenge for what?” he asked. Dick didn’t like the way the man was slowly approaching him and was mentally calculating how he could leap over the edge of the roof, grab the fire escape railing, and flip down to the ground. He knew he could do it, but he also wanted to know who this masked shooter was.

“It’s nothing personal, Mr. Grayson. But your—guardian—do you call him your father?” he asked, registering a flicker in Dick’s face, “Mr. Wayne. He made some disparaging remarks about our organization, and I’m sending him a message. It’s a shame really, you clearly have such potential. But Mr. Wayne snatched you away from us when you were young. Another one of his transgressions.”

Dick was slowly edging to the side, trying to get in the best position for his escape. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“We watch you at your hearth, we watch you in your bed. Speak not a whispered word about us, or we’ll send the Talon for your head,” growled the man, raising his gun. “I am of the Talon. And I’m here for _your_ head.”

Dick had heard enough; he lunged for the edge of the roof as the masked man leaped forward, missing him by a hair. Dick pushed off from the edge of the roof, arms outstretched. He could see his target ahead of him, but before he could grip the steel bar a shot cracked loudly and Dick felt a piercing blow to his side. He screamed and fumbled the handhold. Desperately he grasped for the railing, but he’d missed his chance, he was falling…

* * *

**Gotham City**  
**March 14, 19:21 EST  
** **Team Year Four**

A shot rang out and Artemis took advantage of her opponent’s momentary distraction and swung a piece of steel piping she’d procured into her opponent’s stomach. Her attacker stumbled back and Artemis delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of her head; her attacker was down. Artemis looked around for the source of the shot. What she saw made her throat dry up.

Nightwing was lying on the alley floor, crumpled and bleeding. Above him, a heavily muscled man in a white mask was leisurely making his way down the fire escape toward Nightwing, an automatic rifle dangling from one hand.

“No,” breathed Artemis, and started running toward her fallen teammate. But she could see that she was too far down the long alley. The masked man would get there first.

“Apologies, Mr. Grayson,” the man said as he stood over Nightwing and trained his rifle point blank on his forehead. “It’s a shame it all had to end like this.”

“Hey!” screamed Artemis. The masked man looked up, startled, and barely blocked Artemis’s blow from the metal pipe, hissing in pain as it connected with his forearm, his firearm flying out of his grip. She didn’t give him a chance to go on the offensive, instead aiming a kick toward his undefended side. But before her foot could connect, the masked attacker hooked his free arm around her leg, sending her spinning to the ground. She caught herself from face planting, the metal pipe skittering out of her grip across the alley. Her attacker aimed a kick at her side, but she quickly pivoted her weight onto one arm, sweeping her legs under his and sending him flying to the ground as well. She used her momentum to swing her feet underneath her, but before she could gain the advantage the masked man sprung forward, his fists flying toward her. There followed a series of quick blows which Artemis barely defended; he was much larger than she was, and he moved so quickly that she couldn’t get into a solid stance to go on the offensive. Artemis realized that she couldn’t win this fight on strength alone. She needed her weapon back.

She allowed the masked attacker to force her back, letting him think he was winning. Finally, she spotted the pipe out of the corner of her eye, laying just a few feet to her right. Artemis feinted back and to the left, forcing her opponent to lunge forward, his left arm swinging toward her. But rather than block or dodge the blow, she ducked under it, somersaulting toward the fallen pipe and picking it up mid-tumble. By the time he turned to face her she was already on her feet, the pipe swinging toward his head.

He dropped instantly.

Though it seemed like it had been longer, the fight had lasted less than a minute, and they’d traveled only a few short feet from where Nightwing was still laying on the ground. Artemis shakily dropped to her knees between the two fallen men. To her relief, both were breathing. “Wing,” she said softly, “Nightwing, wake up.” She gently patted his cheeks in an effort to revive him.

“Artemis?” he wheezed. “Fell…ungghh.” He clutched his head with one arm; the other appeared to be broken.

“It gets better,” Artemis replied, masking her fear with false bravado. ”You’ve been shot too.”

“Where’s…Talon?”

“He’s out cold,” said Artemis, assuming he was referring to the masked man. “They all are. Come on, I need to stop the bleeding.” Artemis pulled Nightwing’s shirt away from the wound with shaking hands; it looked _bad_. Swallowing her anxiety, Artemis went over to the unconscious assailant and tore long strips from his shirt; _let_ him _freeze, he deserves it_ , thought Artemis. She wrapped them around Nightwing’s torso as tightly as she could, but the makeshift bandages soaked through with blood too quickly. “Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital,” she said.

“No,” he groaned, “I’ve…had worse…Batcave has…everything I need.”

“Yeah, well, the Batcave is too far away, and I don’t know how to get there” she snapped, and was surprised and horrified to feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She brushed them aside angrily. “And if I don’t get you somewhere, you’re not going to be around to give me more stupid directions that I don’t understand.”

“Okay,” he said in barely above a whisper. “I trust you.”

“Okay,” agreed Artemis. “Can you walk?” No response. “Hey!” she said, and slapped his cheeks lightly again, but Nightwing didn’t wake. “ _Shit!_ _No, no, no!_ ” Artemis sat in the alley, and all at once she was fifteen again and sitting in a busted and broken air vent in the Cave, watching her teammates die.

_Get traught, or get dead_. The thirteen year old Robin’s voice echoed in her head. She’d said those words herself only a few minutes ago to him, only now _she_ had to get traught or it was Nightwing who might die. No time to think. No time to worry about what might happen.

Artemis hauled Nightwing over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry and began to run. She didn’t even notice when his sunglasses slipped off his nose and clattered to the pavement behind her.


	4. Identity Crisis

**Chapter 4: Identity Crisis**

**Gotham City**  
**March 14, 19:37 EST**  
 **Team Year Four**

Artemis ran down increasingly widening but deserted streets toward what she hoped was a more populated area. As Nightwing had led her away from the Zeta-Tube and toward the Batcave they had entered an area of Gotham that Artemis was relatively unfamiliar with. It was truly dark now, and Artemis was relying on her inherent sense of direction to get her to where she wanted to be. Nightwing was draped limply over her shoulders, his blood sluggishly dripping down the arm she held in front of her in the fireman's carry.

Artemis came abruptly around a corner and found herself on a busy street. Busy may have not been quite the right word; the road was blocked with abandoned gridlocked cars, but the sidewalk was full of pedestrians attempting to reach their destinations. "Help!" croaked Artemis. She didn't know how far she had carried Nightwing, but she was sure it was far further than the prescribed 50 feet of the fireman's carry. "Please!" she panted, and slipped Nightwing down off her shoulders and on to the pavement.

There was a shout and a gasp, and soon a small crowd had gathered around Artemis and Nightwing.

"What happened? Were you mugged?"

"Give him some air!"

"Someone call 911!" someone shouted foolishly.

"He's been shot," gasped Artemis, catching her breath. "And he's losing a lot of blood. I don't know what to do." Nightwing was still breathing, but Artemis didn't know how much blood he could lose before things got more serious than they already were.

"What's going on over here, move aside!" came a stern female voice. A bicycle patrol officer pushed her way to the front of the crowd, then dropped down to kneel beside Artemis. "How long ago did this happen?"

"I don't know—ten minutes? Fifteen?" panted Artemis. "We were in an alley—there was no one around to help, I had to carry him here."

The officer instinctively reached for her radio, then swore and dropped her hand. "Is anyone here a doctor?" she called. No one spoke up. "Okay, here's what we're going to do," she said to Artemis. "Stay here with the victim and do your best to slow the bleeding. We've set up rendezvous points throughout the city to try and manage emergencies—I'm going to bike to the nearest one as fast as I can, and they're going to send an ambulance. Your friend is going to be alright ma'am, okay?"

"But the road is blocked, how's an ambulance—" But the officer was already gone, zipping away on her bicycle.

Artemis turned back to Nightwing, who was growing paler. Someone in the crowd handed her a thick sweater; Artemis bunched it up and pressed it as firmly as she could against the wound.  _Come on, Nightwing_ , she thought desperately.  _Please hang on_. She became dimly aware of whispers coming from the small gathering of spectators.

" _Is that who I think it is?_ "

"I can't tell, his face is all banged up."

"Are you  _recording_  this?"

"Hell yeah! I'm selling this to TMZ when everything's back to normal."

Artemis heard the comments and filed them away in the back of her mind. She couldn't focus on them right now though; she had to make sure that Nightwing came out of this ordeal alive. Her attention was intensely focused on the bullet wound in Nightwing's side. Would the officer be fast enough? And how could an ambulance possibly get here?

"Everyone, clear the sidewalk, move aside!" It was the bicycle patrol officer again, her voice booming over the crowd. "I need the area cleared! Move!  _Now_!"

The spectators scattered as the sound of sirens began to grow louder. Artemis looked up from Nightwing to see a patrol car that had mounted the sidewalk and was blaring down toward her. It stopped short of where Artemis and Nightwing were and a patrol officer clambered out.

"What about an ambulance?" said Artemis.

"There weren't any at the rendezvous point. But the patrol car will get you and your friend to the hospital. Let's go!" she called to the new officer. Artemis found herself steered into the backseat of the police car with Nightwing sprawled on the seat, his head resting on her knees. "Keep applying pressure to the wound, ma'am. You're doing great," said the officer steadily. "I'm going to go ahead and clear the way for the car." Artemis nodded and swallowed, once again pressing the sweater into Nightwing's side. Soon, the car was moving along the sidewalk, sirens howling, and Artemis was alone with Nightwing in the relative darkness of the back of the patrol car, the only light coming from the flashing red and blue lights above them.

Artemis shakily looked Nightwing over. For the first time, she noticed that his sunglasses were missing, but he had a nasty looking bruise growing on the left side of his face. Right now, and with his eyes closed, he hardly looked different than he did with his mask on. Artemis cautiously looked up at the officer in the driver's seat. His attention was focused solely on avoiding inattentive pedestrians on the path ahead of him. Keeping one hand firmly pressed over his wound, Artemis cautiously reached inside Nightwing's coat to the inner pocket. Her fingers brushed the coiled metal of Nightwing's utility belt.  _Why hadn't he used it_? She wondered. _Especially after going on how important it was to be prepared._  She slipped the utility belt out of Nightwing's coat with a silent apology and slipped it into her own pocket.

Next, Artemis tilted Nightwing's head and removed his earpiece, which was still lodged in his right ear, and then reached gingerly to his broken left arm and unstrapped his wristwatch, which was really his wrist computer in disguise. She slipped them both into her coat pocket alongside the belt, feeling like a traitor. She knew that Nightwing's identity was his most important secret; it wouldn't do for a nosy nurse to discover these items among his effects at the hospital, but it still felt horribly wrong to be taking them from him. She shook the doubt from her mind. Her mission for the rest of the night was clear to her; firstly, keep Nightwing alive. Secondly, protect his identity. If only she knew what it was, it might be easier to protect.

Her mind flitted over the odd comments from the spectators on the sidewalk, the way Nightwing had paled when the masked assassin had called his name. But he hadn't called for Nightwing, had he? It must have been his real name. What had he said? Mason? Jason? She couldn't remember. But that must have been the reason for Nightwing's cryptic warning about his identity and why he'd been fighting so poorly.

His real name. It seemed to Artemis like everyone knew it except her. Still keeping a firm pressure on the wound, Artemis did a final search of his pockets. She was hoping to find a wallet, but it seemed like Nightwing wasn't carrying one. So she continued searching until she found what she was looking for; Nightwing's iPhone. Artemis hesitated with her thumb over the home button. Nightwing had said he trusted her. But did that give her the right?

_Desperate times_ , she thought ruefully, and pressed the button.  _Passcode or thumbprint required_  flashed the screen. Giving one last silent apology, Artemis pressed Nightwing's thumb to the home button and the screen bloomed to life.

"We're here, get ready to move!" called the officer from the front seat. Artemis quickly slipped the unlocked phone into her pocket alongside Nightwing's other possessions as a hoard of doctors and nurses descended on the backseat of the patrol vehicle.

As the door to the car was wretched open, Artemis was nearly blinded by the lights glaring from the hospital. She blinked her eyes furiously as she relinquished her hold on the sweater at Nightwing's side and clambered out of the car. The doctors had transferred Nightwing onto a gurney and were busy poking him with needles and checking his pulse. The team of doctors was shouting questions at her.

"What's his blood type?"

"Is he allergic to penicillin?"

"Is he taking any medications?"

"I—I don't know," stammered Artemis. "I'm just his friend—I don't know."

Artemis found that she was shaking violently. "It's okay, you made it," said a firm, warm, voice off to her right. Artemis felt herself being guided by the elbow into the cool, bright hospital. "Your friend's in the best care he can be now, okay? Take a seat. I'll get you a glass of water." The firm grip on her elbow guided her into a smooth pink plastic chair in the lobby of the hospital.

"Can you tell us anything about what happened?" said a second, male voice. "Who's your friend? It'll really help the doctors. They might have some records for him on file." A plastic cup of lukewarm water was thrust into Artemis's shaking hands. The water splashed over the rim of the cup onto the floor.

"She's clearly in shock," murmured the male voice.

"Just give her a moment," said the warm, female voice from earlier.

"No—No, I'm fine," said Artemis, and took a shaky sip of water. "How come the lights are on? Is the blackout over?"

"'Fraid not," said the female voice. Artemis looked over and saw that it was a middle-aged woman with soft brown curls and light brown skin. "Most hospitals are equipped with backup generators—and a good thing, too. But the internet and all communications are still down." She smiled at Artemis, not unkindly. "I'm Detective Hernandez of the GCPD, and this is Detective Buckley," she said, gesturing to a shorter, stocky man on her left. He was a white man with a blunt nose, black hair, and a ruddy complexion. "We've been assigned to Gotham General to take statements for anyone coming in involved with any crimes—muggings, harassment, or assault. We need to ask you some questions."

"First of all, your name?" asked Buckley.

"Artemis Crock," replied Artemis.

"And the name of the victim?" Artemis hesitated. She wasn't ready. She didn't know yet.

"Artemis," asked Hernandez gently.

"I—" Artemis started, unsure.  _Come on, Artemis_ , she thought.  _Stay traught. You got this._  "I—I think I'm going to be sick," she said, jumping up. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Wait—" said Buckley, and taking her shaky hand in his, deftly swabbed under each of her finger nails, and then dropped the evidence into a plastic bag. "Okay," he said. "You can wash your hands now, while you're at it."

"This way," said Hernandez, leading her down the hall. "I'll be outside if you need anything." There was a hint of a warning in her voice.  _Don't try and run away_ , it said.

Artemis slipped through the door and walked over to the sinks, staring at her haggard reflection in the mirror. She was pale, clearly exhausted, and there was a smear of blood across one cheek. Artemis looked down; her hand was covered in blood. She lifted Nightwing's phone out of her pocket; the whole time since she'd gotten out of the police car, with the exception of when Buckley had swabbed her hands, she'd kept one hand in her pocket, her thumb tapping a steady beat on the glass of the iPhone to keep it from locking. Carefully, she pulled a length of paper towels from the dispenser and wiped the glass clean. Then, with one hastily cleaned finger, she went to the settings and disabled the passcode and thumbprint lock. Now she didn't have to worry about losing access to the phone. Then Artemis turned on the taps and began washing the blood off her shaking hands. Maybe she  _was_  in shock, after all.

When that was done, Artemis locked herself in the furthest stall from the door and examined Nightwing's phone. What could she use? Her first instinct was to check the buttons for social media or email, but she knew those would be dead. She halfheartedly hit the Facebook icon knowing it wouldn't work, only to be met with an endlessly turning wheel. She minimized the app and went back to the drawing board.

Artemis tapped the contacts icon, then hit the favorites:

Bruce

Alfred

Home

Barbara

Wally

Tim

It didn't surprise Artemis that Batgirl and Nightwing knew each other in their civilian lives, but Wally? Artemis glared at the name. Of course it would turn out that Wally knew Nightwing's secret identity all along. She'd suspected it before, but it still chafed that Wally knew what she didn't, especially now that she needed to know. Artemis pushed aside her frustration for the time being and looked at the remaining names. If Wally and Barbara were on Nightwing's civilian phone, then might Batman? Artemis would have bet money that she was staring at the names of at least some of what she and Wally jokingly called the "Bat Family" when no one else was around. But first names alone were useless. It occurred to Artemis that even if there were last names, it still might not be very enlightening. Odds were that she'd have no idea who Nightwing was even if she did find out his name.

But…Nightwing's secrecy didn't mesh with him having an anonymous civilian identity. Everyone else on the team had revealed theirs relatively easily. Artemis herself was so much of a nobody in real life that she could use her real name as her heroic alias and have no one connect the dots. Plus, there were the comments from the spectators on the sidewalk. Clearly, Nightwing wasn't a nobody.

Artemis closed the contacts and opened up the texting app. Texts may not be functional right now, but she could still read the history. The first conversation at the top was with Wally and it didn't reveal anything; it was limited to generalities and Wally's anecdotes. She flipped to the next conversation. It was with Barbara, and Artemis was embarrassed to read some borderline inappropriate messages. As Artemis scrolled she saw that that Barbara referred to him as 'Hunk Wonder.' Artemis raised an eyebrow. Apparently, the nickname translated into their civilian lives as well.

There didn't seem to be any clues within that conversation, so Artemis flipped to the next one. Tim. Again, Nightwing wasn't referred to by name. She scanned the conversation hurriedly, but it felt like the two of them were talking about something without ever naming the specifics. It was frustratingly banal.

Next conversation. Bruce. This one was even more vague and imprecise. It was as though the two of them were speaking in code.  _Definitely a bat_ , thought Artemis.

The next few conversations were useless; there was one short and slightly flirty exchange with someone that was saved as "Jules from Econ," and another with "Ashley—gymnast." Artemis raised an eyebrow. It seemed like Nightwing was a bigger flirt than she'd realized. But neither woman addressed him by name.

The last conversation was from somebody named Jason. It, too, was vague and lacking in specifics, and ended with Jason saying "See you soon, shithead."

She flipped back to the list of texts, but that was all. Except for the last conversation, which was over a year old, Nightwing clearly didn't like to keep old conversations around.

There was a knock on the door. "Artemis?" called Hernandez. "Everything alright?"

"Yes," called Artemis. "I'll just be a minute."

"Okay," said Hernandez, satisfied that Artemis hadn't attempted to disappear. "I'll be right outside."

Quickly, Artemis returned to the main screen. The only other place she could think to look was in the photos. She didn't have a lot of hope; something told her that Nightwing wasn't exactly a selfie sort of guy. And even if he were, she was relying on him being recognizable enough to already know his name. But she pressed the app anyway and began scrolling through the pictures.

There were several pictures of Gotham by day; they almost seemed like scouting pictures. Then there were a few of Barbara, taken when the girl was gazing at something out of the frame while the sun lit up her fiery hair from behind. Artemis smiled to herself. There were a couple group shots of the Team, though none in Mount Justice or the Watchtower, and none in their costumes. For all intents and purposes, they looked just like a bunch of teenagers, not like the crime-fighters she knew they were. Artemis continued to scroll quickly through the photo library, pausing only when she saw people in the photos. She must have scrolled past hundreds of pictures and was about to give up when she saw it.

It was…her. Her and that scrawny freshman who had ambushed her on her first day at Gotham Academy. But that meant…

All the pieces simultaneously fell into place. Nightwing's guarded secrecy about his identity. The whispers from the gawkers on the sidewalk. And the echoing shout in the alley from their assailant—he had shouted "Grayson."

Nightwing was  _Richard Grayson_.

Richard-fucking-Grayson, Gotham's youngest celebrity. Foster son of…Bruce Wayne.

Artemis groaned and shut her eyes.  _No way_.

"That little  _shit_ ," she whispered.


	5. We'll Laugh About This Someday

**Chapter 5: We'll Laugh About This Someday**

**Gotham City**  
**March 14, 22:17 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

Artemis locked the phone and slipped it back into her pocket before exiting the bathroom and submitting to Hernandez's and Buckley's questions. Artemis figured it should be okay to tell mostly the truth; after all, the assailants had been targeting Richard Grayson, not Nightwing, but she was glad when the questioning ended. It set her on edge.

As Artemis sipped on a warm cup of coffee that Buckley had brought her, a doctor appeared at the door. He was a tall, black man of medium build, wearing wire-framed glasses and lightly holding a clipboard. Hernandez and Buckley stood and walked to him briskly.

"Grayson?" asked Hernandez.

The doctor nodded. "He's stable, but he probably won't be awake for some time yet. I'm afraid you'll have to save your questions for later."

"I understand," said Hernandez. "Let us know as soon as he comes to. We'll be around. And I'm sending an officer to keep watch outside his room. Somebody wanted this kid dead."

"Any of his family here?" asked the doctor, glancing around the waiting room.

"No," said Buckley. "We've got no way to get a hold of Wayne and we don't have the resources to send a runner."

"Can I see him?" interrupted Artemis. All three of them turned to look at her, as though they'd forgotten she was there. "I'm not family, but…" she shrugged.

The doctor glanced at her and sighed. "Normally, I wouldn't allow this," he cautioned, "But it's not as though anyone else is here. Come on."

"I'm Dr. Lawrence," he said as he led her through the hospital corridors. "I hear that you're the young lady who ensured that Mr. Grayson reached the hospital tonight."

"I…guess so," said Artemis.

"It's a good thing you did. Your friend lost a lot of blood. Without a transfusion, he likely would have bled out and died. You're lucky he didn't have a spinal injury after that fall, or moving him could have made things a lot worse, but as it stands, you should know you probably saved his life tonight."

Artemis nodded. She knew Dr. Lawrence was trying to be positive, but it didn't make her feel much better. Finally, he led her to a private room. Artemis inhaled sharply, and slowly let out her breath when she saw Nightwing.  _Richard_ , she mentally corrected. He was lying on a bed, surrounded by beeping monitors and IVs. There was a significant amount of gauze wrapped around his head and an ugly purple bruise was blossoming over the left half of his face. His left arm was in a cast. A sheet was pulled up over his legs and torso, covering the bullet wound and any other damage he might have sustained.

"It looks worse than it is," said Dr. Lawrence.

"Do you know how long until he wakes up?" she asked.

"At this point, we let nature take its course. But my best guess would be sometime before morning."

Artemis nodded, and sank into the chair next to the bed as the doctor left. She glanced around the room, which was larger than most hospital rooms and nicely furnished.  _So these are the perks of being Bruce Wayne's son, huh?_  she thought.  _Must be nice_. She glanced again at Nightwing—Richard—and then away again. She didn't like seeing him so…helpless.

What Artemis really wanted at the moment was to go home. Her mother was probably worried. And she was tired, and she needed a shower. But Artemis knew that what Hernandez had said was right; someone had tried to kill Richard Grayson. And they would probably try again. Artemis would have liked to put more faith in the capabilities of the GCPD, but right now they were overwhelmed and understaffed. Artemis had no way of knowing where Batman or any of the rest of the Bat Family was or if they even knew that Nightwing was injured.

So that left Artemis to keep an eye on Nightwing and make sure he didn't get killed. She groaned and rubbed her tired eyes. She wished Wally were here. She needed someone to cheer her up, someone to bounce her ideas off of. But she was on her own.

So, what did she know so far? First of all, Nightwing was Richard Grayson. That fact kept bouncing around in her head and pushing aside other thoughts. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more obvious it became, the angrier she got. She couldn't believe she hadn't figured it out! He'd invited her to his  _birthday_  party, of all things! She'd watched as the little brat played spin the bottle. Of course he'd really been Robin. A part of her had even suspected it at the time, but as time went on and Artemis accepted that Robin wasn't going to tell her his identity, she also accepted that it didn't really matter. Robin, Nightwing, whoever he was—he was her friend and teammate.

Which was exactly why she shouldn't be so irritated about it now. If she allowed herself to examine her feelings honestly, she would first acknowledge that she was embarrassed that she'd never put the pieces together and that he'd clearly been teasing her with his identity through the years. And then she would admit that she was angry that Wally knew and she didn't. And then after admitting  _that_  she'd have to acknowledge that really, under it all, she was just so angry and  _scared_  that Nightwing apparently valued keeping his identity a secret more than he valued staying alive.

Artemis pushed those thoughts aside for now and continued with her mental inventory. So, Nightwing was Richard Grayson. Clearly, that meant that Batman was Bruce Wayne. Huh. It really  _was_  a Bat Family. Artemis already knew that Batgirl and Barbara were one and the same—though exactly how she fit into the picture, Artemis wasn't entirely sure. Artemis whistled softly through her teeth. No wonder the bats kept their identities so tightly under wraps; if you figured one out, it was far too easy to figure them all out.

But what had happened tonight? The masked shooter—he didn't seem to know who he was really dealing with. At least it was clear that Nightwing hadn't thought so; it was obvious now that he'd been trying to mask his fighting prowess. Artemis wracked her brain for what little she knew about Richard Grayson—he may have been a minor celebrity, but she was never one for tabloids. She remembered him vaguely as the rich kid whose dad owned the Wayne Foundation—she'd automatically avoided him for the most part because as a scholarship student she didn't like acknowledging that his father was essentially paying her way through school. But Bruce Wayne wasn't Richard Grayson's father—not biologically, at least. She felt a little pang of sadness when she realized that what she had always suspected was true; Batman really was Robin's only family, not just his partner. She couldn't remember the details of what had happened to Grayson's family, but she remembered hearing somewhere that he had grown up in a circus, in a family of trapeze artists. That explained the uptick on the acrobatics tonight then. Nightwing had fallen back on a skill he knew no one would question Richard Grayson having.

That left the masked shooter himself. Why had he sent a party of five assassins to take out Richard Grayson? Artemis could come up with a hundred reasons why someone might want to harm Bruce Wayne's son, but she had no way of knowing if any of them were close to the truth.

And then there was the blackout. Could this be at all related? But why would anyone black out an entire city just to assassinate Richard Grayson? That didn't make any sense. In fact, the blackout hadn't really affected the ambush at all, except when it was over and Artemis had no way of calling for help. But if things had gone the way the masked man had intended, it wouldn't have mattered if Artemis could have called 911 or not.

So, was the ambush unrelated to the blackout? Probably. But if it was, that meant that not only did Artemis and Nightwing have a band of mystery murderers after them, but they still had to figure out a way to end the blackout. But why hadn't someone else solved it by now? Where was Batman? And where was the League? Over the past couple hours Artemis had tried to hang onto the hope that help was on the way, but as time ticked by she was forced to acknowledge that Gotham—and she and Nightwing—were on their own tonight.

* * *

**Gotham City  
** **March 15, 00:08 EST  
** **Team Year Four**

Artemis kept watch over Nightwing from the armchair across from his bed. She spent the first hour attempting to piece together various mysteries about the Richard Grayson-Nightwing connection; the Team's mysterious mission to Bruges to investigate Haly's Circus, not to mention Robin's prowess on the trapeze. The timing of Jason Todd's—Bruce Wayne's second foster son's—disappearance, who had been presented to the media as a troubled teen who had run away from home, and the death of the second Robin at the hands of the Joker. And the mystery of how Batman was able to develop and finance all of his equipment—Artemis still couldn't get over the fact that he was an actual  _billionaire_.

After that, she spent time sifting through the events of the day and trying to formulate a plan to end the blackout, with no luck. She simply didn't know enough for certain about the situation to come up with a legitimate theory or plan. She decided that their original idea—getting to the Batcave—was still their best bet, but she couldn't leave Nightwing unprotected, not to mention that she didn't even know where the Batcave was. Or how to get in. Or if she even had the technical knowhow to  _do_ anything even if she did access the Batcave and its system. Artemis groaned and rubbed her temples. Clearly, the 'get to the Batcave' plan was on hiatus.

After that, Artemis's mind began to wander as she grew more and more tired; she tried reading an article in one of the magazines that were in the room. She wrote a long text to Wally that she knew she wouldn't be able to send and then deleted it. Throughout the whole time, Artemis was alert for any sign of their attackers returning to finish what they started, but all was quiet. Finally, just after midnight, she heard a rustle and a barely audible groan come from the bed. Slowly, Nightwing cracked open his eyes.

Artemis set aside her magazine and stood over the bed. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," she said.

"Ughh," he said, blinking. "Where'm I? What happened?"

"You got shot," said Artemis flatly, "and smacked your head after falling from a fire escape. And then I had to carry your sorry butt to the hospital, where we are now."

Dick reached up with his right arm and tentatively touched his left cheek. "Ouch," he said, sounding mildly surprised. It was sometime around then he seemed to realize he was no longer wearing his sunglasses. He looked down as Artemis tossed his phone onto his bed, the image of him and Artemis on her first day at Gotham Academy shining up at him.

"We'll laugh about this someday?" she said, her voice somewhere between frustrated and resigned.

"Ha?" said Dick.

"I wish you'd told me," said Artemis, slumping back into the armchair. "Do you know what I had to go through tonight?"

"I'm beginning to form a picture," said Dick, picking up the phone. "Did you go through my pockets?"

"Yes I did and I'm not going to apologize about it," said Artemis, working herself up. "I'm still getting over the fact that I had to break into my friend's phone to figure out his name just so I could be interviewed by a couple of cops without either looking like a criminal or a crazy person—"

"Artemis—"

"And I can't believe Wally knows! He's never going to let me live it down, how long it took me to figure it out—"

"Artemis! Stop!" said Dick, cutting her off. Artemis fell silent, instantly feeling guilty for snapping at him.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Artemis, it's fine. Really." Dick leaned back on his pillows and closed his eyes. "First of all, I don't want you to apologize. It was a smart move, hiding my stuff. The last thing I need is some orderly putting the pieces together. And secondly," he said, opening his eyes, " _I'm_  sorry. But if you've figured out as much as I think you have, you understand why we're so tight on security." Artemis nodded. "Honestly, if it were just me, I would have told everyone on the Team by now," he sighed. "But it's not. And if it's any consolation, I was actually about to tell you right before the Talon showed up."

"Wait—you were?" demanded Artemis.

Dick shrugged his good shoulder. "It's kind of hard to go to the Batcave on foot and  _not_  figure out that it's directly underneath Wayne Manor. So, yeah. I was. Plus, it was time. I've been dropping hints for  _years_."

"Yeah, I've belatedly put all that together," said Artemis darkly. "Trust me, it's not making me feel very clever."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up. If it makes you feel any better, I've dropped just as many hints to all the other original Team members. Nobody else has figured it out, or if they have, they're keeping it to themselves."

"Except for Wally," said Artemis.

"Wally didn't figure it out," said Dick seriously. "I told him, when I was twelve. He was the first other young hero I met, and for the longest time, he was the only person outside my family who knew both my identities. It's harder than you might think," he said, looking up at her, "hiding part of who you are all the time. I needed a friend."

The fight went out of Artemis then. "Yeah," she said, looking down. "I get it. And I really am sorry for snapping at you. I guess realizing that I'd actually been fighting crime alongside Richard Grayson came as a bit of a shock."

He gave a small laugh. "That's the idea," he said. "Nobody  _would_  guess. And it's Dick. Nobody who actually knows me calls me Richard."

"Wait—really?"

Before either of them could say anything else, the door opened and a nurse blustered into the room, closely trailed by Dr. Lawrence.

"I see you're awake," said Lawrence, approaching one of the monitors attached to Dick. "How are you feeling?"

"Just dandy," quipped Dick. "I think I'll go run a marathon."

"I see your sense of humor is intact, then," replied Dr. Lawrence. "That's good. But be serious with me for a minute first."

Dick shrugged his right shoulder. "I feel like I've been shot and dropped on my head," he said.

"That's more like it. I'm going to have to conduct some tests and go over the details of your treatment now—if you'd like some privacy…" Dr. Lawrence glanced at Artemis.

"No, she can stay," said Dick, cutting off Dr. Lawrence. Artemis settled back in the chair again and nodded subtly at Dick. She didn't like the idea of leaving him alone just yet—not when there could still be people out there who wanted him dead. It seemed Dick was thinking along the same lines.

"Okay, then," said Lawrence. "Let's check for concussion." He took out a small penlight and shone it into each of Dick's eyes. Satisfied, he sat back on a stool and asked Dick a series of common knowledge questions. When that was done, he began to go over Dick's injuries and treatment.

"You've been lucky tonight, Mr. Grayson," he said. "You seem to be functioning at full capacity, so your concussion isn't nearly as bad as it might have been. As for your gunshot wound, the bullet pierced the muscles of your abdomen but didn't enter the abdominal cavity itself."

"That's good," said Dick.

"Very good," agreed Lawrence. "I can't promise you would be here right now if your internal organs had sustained any serious damage."

Artemis swallowed hard. They'd been lucky.

"In addition, you've broken your left radius and cracked three ribs on your left side." The nurse pinned a few x-rays up and Dr. Lawrence spent the next few minutes detailing the seriousness of the breaks and outlining the prescribed treatment.

"That all?" asked Dick when he was done, cracking a small, anxious smile.

"That's good. Keep up your sense of humor, Mr. Grayson," said Lawrence. "Now, I've got a pair of cops outside who want to ask you questions. Do you think you can handle that right now?"

"Bring 'em on," said Dick, leaning back on his pillows. Dr. Lawrence and the nurse left, and Dick shut his eyes for a few moments, his face betraying his exhaustion. "Artemis," he said softly, after a moment. "Thank you."

"Hey, what are friends for?" she asked quietly.

He smiled weakly without opening his eyes. "Before I get interviewed, we should exchange notes. How much did you tell them?"

"The truth, mainly. Well, the redacted version."

"Okay. So why were we in an alley together?"

"Old friends from Gotham Academy catching up. We got lost after the cell service went out."

"Wow. We must have terrible senses of direction."

"Hey, I was put on the spot," said Artemis.

"Alright. Anything else I should know?"

"In this version of reality, I am _way_  better at hand-to-hand combat than you are."

Dick gave a short laugh, but his smile drooped as they heard footsteps coming from down the hall. "Round two," he groaned, and opened his eyes as Hernandez and Buckley entered the room.

"Mr. Grayson, how are you feeling?" asked Hernandez.

"Peachy," said Dick, though Artemis detected less humor in his voice this time around.

"I'm Detective Hernandez and this is my partner, Buckley. We were hoping you could tell us what happened to you tonight."

"Just start at the beginning, and tell us everything you can remember," said Buckley, taking out a notepad and pen.

Dick took in a deep breath, and began. His story meshed with Artemis's memory until the point where he disappeared onto the roof.

"I thought I could lose them if I climbed. Born in a circus, and all that…" he said ruefully. "But there was already someone on the roof waiting for me. He was different than the others, he was wearing a mask." Dick paused, took a breath, and said, "He said he was of the Talon."

Hernandez and Buckley glanced at each other quickly. "Did he say anything else?" asked Hernandez.

"Yes," said Dick, frowning. "He quoted that nursery rhyme. The one about the Court of Owls." He looked up at Hernandez. "And he said he'd 'come for my head.'"

"Do you have any idea why the Court of Owls would be targeting you, Mr. Grayson?" asked Hernandez.

"No," said Dick.

"Wait—hang on a minute," said Buckley, and abruptly walked out of the room. Dick raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Hernandez didn't acknowledge him. A moment later, Buckley returned with a pile of old newspapers he had apparently gathered from the waiting room.

"I swear I just read this an hour ago…" he said, shuffling through the pile. Finally, he pulled out a specific page. "Here we go. I think this might have something to do with it."

He placed the newspaper down on the table next to Dick's bed. Artemis leaned over to read the headline: WAYNE CALLS COURT OF OWLS A 'PLAGUE ON GOTHAM'

"Huh," said Dick. "I hadn't read that one yet."

"You're saying that Dick nearly got  _killed_  tonight because his foster father made a couple negative comments in a newspaper?" demanded Artemis.

"The Court of Owls has killed for less," said Hernandez grimly. "And I don't doubt that they'll try again."

"In fact it's surprising that they haven't come to finish what they started already," added Buckley. "I'd wager that this blackout is actually doing you a favor right now, Mr. Grayson. It's probably impacted their organization as much as it has the GCPD's."

"In other words," said Dick, "You're saying you don't think they've figured out where I am yet. How long can that really be expected to last?"

"Not long," said Hernandez. "Buckley, stay here with Grayson. I'm going to get backup. He's going to need a 24 hour detail watching him."

Hernandez walked toward the door, but before she could get there, a young woman with bright red hair strode purposefully into the room.

"Dick?" she demanded, rushing toward the bed. "What the  _hell_  happened?"


	6. Enter Barbara

**Chapter 6: Enter Barbara**

**Gotham City**  
**March 15, 01:14 EST**  
 **Team Year Four**

"Okay," said Barbara, once she, Artemis, and Dick were alone in the room. "Would someone like to tell me what  _actually_  happened?"

Dick was sitting up in bed looking at Barbara, his facial expression somewhere between relief and apprehension. Detective Hernandez had left a few minutes previously to go collect reinforcements from the GCPD. Buckley, realizing that Dick and Barbara had some things to talk through, had hurriedly excused himself and was standing guard outside, along with another officer who had been stationed there a few hours earlier. One burning look from Barbara was all it took to get him to leave the room; he didn't want to get on the boss's daughter's bad side, after all.

Once Artemis got over the surprise of Barbara's—known to her as Batgirl's—sudden appearance, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. She and Nightwing weren't alone anymore. They had a third hero backing them up. It was time to exchange notes.

"What Detective Buckley said is actually pretty much the truth," said Dick cautiously. "Artemis and I were ambushed by five assassins from the Court of Owls. One of them got the jump on me."

"And how  _exactly_ ," said Barbara, crossing her arms, "did that happen?"

"If you're wondering how I managed to get away without a scratch while Mr. Martial Arts expert over here ended up with a gunshot wound and a concussion, the answer is he wasn't _using_  any of his expertise," said Artemis.

Dick glared at Artemis. "Hey, that's not entirely fair," he said, looking back to Barbara. "I had to protect my identity. You know that, Babs."

"By nearly getting yourself killed?" asked Barbara. "God, honestly Dick, sometimes you're such an idiot."

"Look, I'm not saying I handled it as well as I should have. Clearly, I didn't," he said, gesturing angrily to the hospital bed. "Do you think I  _wanted_  to end up stuck here during a crisis?"

Barbara sighed, and rubbed her temples. "Look—I'm sorry, Dick. But you had me seriously worried."

Dick's glare softened. "Really, you were worried about me?" he asked, smiling a bit more roguishly than Artemis thought the situation required. Artemis rolled her eyes. "Actually," said Dick to Barbara, his smile dropping, "how did you even know to come here?"

Barbara sighed and slipped her bag off her shoulder and dropped it at her feet, then perched herself on the edge of Dick's bed. "I was out to dinner with dad when the blackout hit. Of course, he immediately rushes down to the station to try and organize things—and he brought me with him. Said he didn't want me out of his sight until he figured out what was going on, as if I haven't proved I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself by now," she said, rolling her eyes. "But ending up there wasn't an entirely bad thing—the emergency response rendezvous points were my idea. I've been working with dad and the GCPD all night on coordinating emergency response without any comms. That's actually how I heard about you—during a debriefing of the effectiveness of the system, someone mentioned that the network had been used to rescue a shooting victim. But it wasn't until a couple hours later that word filtered down to me that it was  _you_."

"And as for the other thing," Barbara said, taking Dick's hand in hers, "of course I was worried." Her expression softened as she met Dick's eyes. He gently squeezed her hand back.

Artemis shifted and glanced away. This felt more intrusive than if she'd walked in on them kissing. It was clear to her that Nightwing and Batgirl had feelings for each other—feelings that they seemed to be mutually aware of. A few months ago, she and Wally had had a disagreement on whether or not Batgirl and Nightwing had something going on or not. Wally was firmly of the opinion that their relationship was strictly professional. Artemis grinned inwardly. Wally owed her twenty bucks.

Dick's expression shifted and he gave a small smirk. "Babs, I never knew you cared so much," he said jokingly, easing them out of the moment of seriousness.

She narrowed her eyes and smirked back at him. "Don't get too cocky, Boy Wonder," she said, letting go of his hand. "Don't expect me let you off the hook just because you're injured. And don't try to tell me that an Owl assassin getting the drop on you had anything to do with protecting your ID," she said, raising an eyebrow. "You got out-stealthed," she said teasingly. "You must be slipping." Dick opened his mouth to defend himself, but was cut off by Barbara before he could say anything, and left with a mildly annoyed expression on his face.

"What I  _am_  curious about, though," she continued, slipping off the side of the bed to stand in front of Artemis as Dick rolled his eyes behind her, "is how you're involved in all this. I didn't even know you were in town. And how did you manage to find each other after the blackout? "

Artemis quickly explained why she was in Gotham, how she and Nightwing had run into each other outside the Zeta-Tube entrance, and their subsequent ambush. She also summarized her journey with Nightwing to the hospital, which Dick was also hearing in its entirety for the first time.

"Oh yeah, and there also might be a video of you bleeding out on a sidewalk showing up online…once online exists again," added Artemis when she had finished.

"You're serious, aren't you," said Dick. Artemis nodded, and Dick leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. "As if this weren't embarrassing enough already…" he complained.

"I think the last thing you need to be worried about is your dignity, Grayson," said Barbara. During Artemis's explanation, she had moved to the window and was peering down at Gotham's eerily dark skyline, backlit from the moonlight reflected on the water of the bay. "We've dealt with the Court of Owls before. They  _will_  try to finish what they started," she said, turning away from the window. "And I  _really_  don't like you laying here like a sitting duck."

"I'd love to get Dick to a safer location too, but how?" asked Artemis. "For all we know, this Court of Owls is already watching us, waiting for a chance to make a move."

"If I know anything about how the GCPD operates, and I do, I can tell you that they'll want to move him to one of their safe houses as soon as he's strong enough to leave the hospital," said Barbara. "But it won't work. The Court of Owls knows more about Gotham than nearly anyone else. Odds are they already know exactly where any safe houses are, if they aren't waiting to ambush us again, like you said."

"Besides which, none of us are any good to Gotham if we end up in a GCPD safe house," said Artemis. "And I think Gotham needs as many heroes as it can get right now."

Barbara nodded. "What we need to do is get Dick to the Batcave. It's safe, secure, and only five people in Gotham know where it's located. Or six, now that you're in on the big Bat secret," said Barbara, smiling at Artemis. "Welcome to the club, by the way."

"Thanks," said Artemis, smiling grimly. She looked over to Dick, who hadn't said very much in the past few minutes. It soon became apparent why; he was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling gently.

Barbara smiled softly in his direction. "Right now, our job is to keep him safe and keep the GCPD from trying to move him to an unsafe location. The rest will work itself out."

Artemis raised her eyebrows and looked over at Barbara. "Really?" she said skeptically. "I never thought you were one for blind faith."

"Not at all," said Barbara. "But lucky for us, I've got a secret weapon."

Artemis blinked, then looked from Barbara's mischievous smile to her bag, which was sitting at the redhead's feet. "Please tell me you mean what I think you mean," Artemis said, looking back to Barbara.

Barbara picked up the bag and unzipped it by a fraction, revealing a sliver of black and yellow fabric. When Artemis looked back up, Barbara's smile was reflected on her own face.

"Not to mention that as soon as Batman finds out that Dick Grayson has been shot, he'll be here within the same hour," said Barbara, zipping the bag up again.

"But do you think he  _will_  find out with the Blackout?" asked Artemis.

Barbara raised her eyebrows and gave Artemis a look. "Trust me, if you'd worked with Batman as long as I have, you wouldn't ask that question. He's Batman. He knows everything. He'll find out, one way or another. I just hope it's sooner rather than later."

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love the extra help, but we can't just sit around and wait for him either," said Artemis.

"I wouldn't dream of it," replied Barbara, slinging the bag over her shoulder. "I'm going to suit up and take a look around. See if the coast is clear or not."

"I'll stay with Dick," Artemis volunteered, even though she knew she didn't really have another option. One of them needed to stick close to him, and Batgirl was more equipped to patrol outside since she had her costume. "Apparently, the bad guys already think I'm his body guard. Might as well keep up the illusion."

Barbara nodded. "I'll check back within the hour," she said. "If I don't come back before then, it means I've found our enemy. You know what to do."

Artemis nodded. "I'll keep him safe," she said.

Barbara spared one last look at Dick, who was still propped up and asleep on his pillows, and then walked out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So just a note, I'm basing a lot of Dick and Babs's relationship off of what was established in the Young Justice comics. If you haven't read them, check them out! They're very good, especially the ones that go along with season 2 (in my opinion…I know a lot of people weren't big fans of season 2, but I personally really enjoyed it.) Aaand in case you can't already tell, I'm a Dick/Babs shipper…heh. Though shipping is definitely not the focus of this story, I couldn't resist putting in a little bit of Dick/Babs cuteness.
> 
> And I apologize for the delay on this chapter! Technically, it was already written, but I needed to iron out a few of the details and I didn't get to it as quickly as I would have liked. I had a bunch of job interviews and other things to worry about that took precedence over this story for a few days. Sorry about that, and hopefully next week I'll be back on schedule!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!


	7. Meanwhile, Part I

**Chapter 7: Meanwhile**

**The Watchtower**  
**March 14, 18:09 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

_"Recognized: Wonder Woman-Zero-Three."_

"Evening, Diana," said Captain Atom, looking up from his work screen on the Watchtower.

"And the same to you, Captain," said Wonder Woman, walking down the steps from the Zeta-Tubes. "Batman," she said, nodding toward the direction of the caped crusader. He grunted his acknowledgement, his eyes never leaving the holographic monitor.

"Thank you, Aquaman," he said through the communicator. "Continue monitoring the situation. I'll send an alpha squad of Aqualad, Aquagirl, Tempest, and Miss Martian to assist in the situation."

"Acknowledged," said Aquaman's holographic image. "But things are moving quickly. I may be forced to take action."

"Do what you need to," said Batman.

Aquaman nodded and disconnected the feed as Batman turned and began typing away at the neighboring console.

Wonder Woman stood behind him and propped one hand on her waist, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You know, I arrived to relieve you of monitor duty, not to watch as you work," she said.

"We have a possible developing situation," replied Batman, ignoring the question. "Patrols from Atlantis have spotted unknown agents staking out major submarine communications cables that run across the Atlantic Ocean."

"Those conduits enable connectivity between North America and Europe and Asia," added Captain Atom. "Losing them would cause serious trouble."

"Who could be behind such a plot?" asked Wonder Woman, striding over to the monitor, which was displaying a map of the information pipelines across the Atlantic. "Ocean Master? Black Manta?"

"Perhaps," said Batman. "But we have no definitive evidence. Aquaman is ready to take an open stand against the trespassers, but we need to understand their larger motive. I'm sending in the Team."

Batman began typing in the command, but before he could call the Cave the holographic screen suddenly flickered and reverted to sleep mode, showing only the revolving emblem of the Justice League. Batman narrowed his eyes and typed a command into the keyboard.

" _Error. Signal has been lost,_ " said the automated voice of the computer.

"What in the world…?" said Captain Atom. He rushed over to another panel. "This one's offline too!"

"Batman to Aqualad," said Batman, pressing his earpiece. No response. He frowned, and switched frequencies. "Batman to Robin. Come in." Silence.

" _Zeta-Tube network now offline due to unknown connectivity issue_ ," announced the cool, female voice from the Zeta-Tubes.

"How could all of our communications systems fail at once?" demanded Wonder Woman, trying another console. "Are we under attack?"

"There's nothing wrong with the system itself," said Batman, rapidly scrolling through layers of code on the screen closest to him. "The problem appears to be external." Batman turned toward another console, but stopped in mid-stride, spotting a sliver of the earth through one of the long, floor length windows that looked into outer space. Usually, one could gaze down on the earth at night and see a delicate map of the world, lights tracing a gauzy spider's web from one city to the next. The Watchtower was currently drifting over Europe, and at this time Batman would normally expect to see the continent lit up amid the wash of darkness. But that wasn't what he saw.

"I think we have a larger situation on our hands," he said, staring down at the planet.

Captain Atom and Wonder Woman followed Batman to the window and stopped, struck momentarily speechless.

"Hera, help us," whispered Wonder Woman.

The entire planet was dark.

"We need to contact the rest of the League immediately," said Batman, jumping to action. "Without Zetas or comm-links we'll have to take the shuttle down and round up everyone manually."

"Even if we split up, that's still going to take too long," said Captain Atom. "Without power, I can think of a dozen emergency situations happening on the ground."

"You're right," said Batman. "Which is why  _we_  won't be the ones doing it."

* * *

**Palo Alto**  
**March 14, 15:09 PDT**  
**Team Year Four**

"Listen, Wally, do your stupid reading, okay? I'll call you tonight."

"Fine. Love you, babe."

"I love you too. Bye."

Wally listened to the flat click that indicated Artemis had hung up the phone, then leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers restlessly against the wooden tabletop and eyeing his laptop distastefully. It was sitting at the corner of the table, covered in a pile of mail and other detritus that had accumulated in the couple days since Artemis had been gone. Wally thought about clearing it off and opening it for about a solid five seconds, then stood up and opened the refrigerator instead. Inside, there was a gorgeous coconut-cream pie, purchased by Wally, for Wally, earlier that day.

"Come to papa," he said, sliding the pie off the wire rack of the fridge.

It  _was_  pi day after all. What self-respecting science nerd  _wouldn't_  eat pie on March 14th? And just because he no longer used his super-speed as a hero didn't mean he no longer had a super-metabolism to contend with.

Five slices later, Wally found his gaze drawn guiltily back to the computer. Sighing, he leaned over and pulled the laptop across the table, scattering the surrounding papers onto the floor in the process. He needed to download the assigned reading from the course website, but when he opened up his internet browser, he found himself staring at a little pixelated dinosaur and the message 'Unable to connect to the Internet.' Frowning, Wally checked his wifi settings, tried another browser, and even attempted resetting the router, all to no avail. After a few minutes battling his computer for internet access, he sat defeated in the kitchen chair.

"Guess that's a perfect excuse not to do my psych reading," he murmured, eyeing the computer thoughtfully. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But I bet Professor Saterstrom won't see it that way…C'mon, Brucely!" he called. The white Pit Bull sat up from where he'd been curled up on the couch, his ears perked. "C'mon boy! We're going for a walk!"

* * *

**Central City**  
**March 14, 17:24 CDT**  
**Team Year Four**

"It's about  _time_  you guys showed up," said Flash, who was busy shepherding alarmed-looking civilians away from what looked like a horrific car accident in one of Central City's busiest intersections. He had managed to get all of the crash victims out of the wreckage before the truck, which had flipped over a couple times after the collision, had caught fire. He'd quickly realized that none of the usual emergency responders were coming and had rushed the victims to the hospital on foot, and then raced back to snuff the flames out with a whirlwind before the vehicle could explode.

In between all of this, he couldn't fail to notice that all the lights in the city had gone out—causing the aforementioned traffic accident—and that none of the usual methods of digital communication were working. Realizing he probably couldn't handle all the emergencies that might crop up in Central City—and probably Keystone City too—all by himself, he had tried contacting the Justice League, only to find that his League communicator was also not working.

Which was why he'd been so relieved when he'd seen a League shuttle touching down not far from where he was herding civilians and to see Batman, Wonder Woman, and Captain Atom come out of it.

"Seriously," he continued, "I was a little worried when I couldn't reach you guys on the comm-link, but now that you're here—"

"We won't be staying," interrupted Batman. "And neither will you."

Flash paused and blinked at Batman. "Correct me if I heard wrong, but did you just tell me I wasn't going to stick around when my city is facing a crisis? Sorry, but—"

"What Batman means to say," said Wonder Woman, "is that the crisis is not only in Central City. Right now, the earth is experiencing a world-wide Blackout."

"We came directly from the Watchtower," added Captain Atom. "It affords a pretty good view of the situation."

Flash blinked once, absorbing the information. He had about a thousand questions, but he was also quickly imagining all the different scenarios that would be caused by a worldwide blackout. None of them were good.

"Where do you need me?" he asked instead.

Wonder Woman smiled at him. "I'm afraid we will need you everywhere, Flash."

"Right now, the world is experiencing not only an electrical blackout, but a total communications blackout as well," said Batman. "So far as we can tell, that includes all cellular communication, all radio signals, and all online communication."

"Wait—you're telling me the radios aren't working?" asked Flash. "World-wide? How is that even possible?"

"We don't know yet, but we have more pressing issues before we can address the root of the problem. At any given moment, there are approximately 3300 planes in the air, all of which just lost radio communication with their control towers. Many of them will be able to land using visual signals, but many of them won't."

Wonder Woman shuddered. "I don't like to think of how many casualties there might be as a result of this crisis from those in the air alone."

"We've also got to think about the over 400 nuclear reactors worldwide that just lost power," added Captain Atom. "And pray that enough of them are able to initiate a safe shut-down process."

Batman nodded. "Captain Atom, you're in charge of ensuring the safe shut-down of any nuclear reactors you can. It's a big task, but I'm afraid you're the only League member we have that's equipped for the job."

Captain Atom nodded, taking to the air. "I'll spread the word that all reactors should begin safe shutdown procedures while they still have backup battery power. If anything starts melting down, I should be able to detect it and head straight for it. Wish me luck."

Batman spared a moment to watch the Captain fly off, then turned his attention back to Wonder Woman and Flash. "We need to get as many of us in the air as possible, as soon as possible. We should focus on the most highly trafficked airports. Diana," he said, turning to Wonder Woman.

"I know," she said, briefly touching his arm. "Dallas or Atlanta?"

"Atlanta," he said. "It may be farther from our current location, but it's the busiest airport in the world. Get there as fast as you can."

Wonder Woman nodded and took to the air, heading southeast.

Flash watched Diana quickly disappearing into the horizon, then turned back to Batman. "So that leaves you and me," he said.

"Not quite," said Batman. "Because all our communications are down, most of the League members, much like yourself, probably don't realize the extent of the situation. They'll be focused on smaller, local emergencies rather than looking at the big picture. Right now, nineteen League members are on-world, including Wonder Woman, Captain Atom, and ourselves," said Batman. "There are also eight current Team members. They all need to be contacted and organized."

"Let me guess: I'm going to be doing the contacting," said Flash.

Batman nodded. "I'm afraid you're the only way we have of communicating with each other at the moment."

"Messenger boy may not have been what I had in mind when I became a superhero, but I can see the situation requires it. Where to first?"

"Like I said before, we need anyone who can fly in the air. Find them first. We still need people at the other major airports throughout the world; Beijing, Tokyo, London, and Dubai take priority. J'onn should already be in Chicago—he can cover O'Hare. Try to get someone to Dallas, LAX, Hong Kong, and Paris if you can as well."

"Got it—what about the rest of the League?"

"Aquaman and any of the Atlantian Team members may be able to assist Captain Atom if any coastal nuclear reactors begin to meltdown," said Batman, "but Aquaman is currently in Atlantis. Unless he comes ashore, we most likely won't be able to get in touch with him. And as far as I last heard, he's already busy—he contacted me shortly before the blackout to report sabotage on major submarine communications cables."

"Should I send Aqualad, Aquagirl, and Tempest to assist?" asked Flash.

"Consult with them and use your discretion—you'll have the most information out of any of us soon. Besides that, there are plenty of other problems that come with a blackout—besides all the traffic accidents that are bound to have happened, combined with delayed emergency response, there are still countless trains and subways that rely on electricity. Remaining League members can handle what problems they see fit according to their abilities. There are going to be plenty injured or stranded civilians, and possibly mass panic and unrest."

Batman paused and considered mentioning the numerous other problems he could foresee; water purification and recycling plants would shut down, and eventually water distribution facilities. Basic infrastructure, like food refrigeration and delivery, would also begin to collapse within a few days. There would doubtless be looting and riots.

But many of those challenges would only arise in the next few days. Right now, the League had enough on its plate; they'd worry about those hurdles when and if they came.

"Alright, I'll spread the word," said Flash. He was poised to start running and practically vibrating with anticipation. "I just have one question," he said. "Where are you going to be?"

"Gotham," Batman said, already turning away toward the shuttle. "I'm going to figure out who's responsible for all this. You know where to find me."

Flash nodded, though Batman wasn't looking to see it. When he climbed into the cockpit of the shuttle, Flash was nothing but a red blur disappearing over the horizon.

* * *

**Palo Alto**  
**March 14, 15:49 PDT**  
**Team Year Four**

A half hour from when he set out, Wally was securing Brucely's leash outside of a local coffee shop. "I'll just be a minute, Brucie," he said as he scratched the dog behind the ears. "I'm just gonna go in, download my assignment, and then we can get walking again!" Giving the dog a final rub behind the ears, Wally walked into the coffee shop, only to find that all the lights were out.

"Whoa," he said and blinked, letting his vision adjust from the bright afternoon outside to the dim interior of the café. "Dude, what's going on with the lights?" he asked as he approached the counter.

The barista turned toward him from where he was wiping down the counter. "Power outage," he said, tossing the cloth into the sink behind him. "Sorry man, registers are down and none of the machines are working. Unless I can interest you in a cold brew…?"

"Uh, thanks, but no thanks. I actually came here to use your wifi."

"Oh, yeah, that's not working either. Not really sure what's going on…I tried calling building maintenance but even the phones aren't going through. We're probably gonna close up soon if the power doesn't come back on."

"Huh," said Wally, who was looking out the window at the other shops along the street. He hadn't noticed before, but all the lights were out in them too. "Sorry, did you say the phones aren't working? Do you have a landline?"

"No, it's not working either. Really bizarre—"

"Thanks for the help, man," said Wally, turning away.

"Yeah, no problem," said the barista, blinking. Wally was already out the door.

Psychology homework forgotten, Wally untied Brucely and set out at a brisk walk toward campus. It was possible that there was some sort of local outage, but the fact that even telephone landlines weren't working was setting off alarm bells in Wally's head. As he walked he fished his phone out of his pocket and quickly confirmed that all texts, calls, and internet capabilities weren't working.

 _Chill, Wally_ , he thought to himself.  _It's probably nothing. You're just looking for a crisis where there isn't one. The power will come back on, just like normal, and you're gonna be feeling pretty silly in a couple hours._ Nevertheless, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Maybe he'd been hanging around with Dick too much, but he had a feeling he should trust his gut on this one.

After a few more minutes walking, he was climbing up the stairs of a two-story complex and knocking on the door of apartment 2B. "Zane?" he called. "Are you there? It's Wally!"

A moment later, the door was wretched open and he was face-to-face with a young Asian man who was wearing a zip-up hoody, had a backpack slung over one shoulder, and was hauling a bicycle under the other arm. "Dude, Wally, what are you doing here? Sorry, I've gotta run right now, I've got class—"

"Is your power working?" asked Wally, cutting him off. "Because I just walked all the way from my place, through town, and I'm beginning to get seriously worried."

Zane eyed him and leaned his bike against the edge of the balcony outside his door. "Yeah, my power's out, just like everyone else's. Why is that making you 'seriously worried?'"

"Have you tried your landline yet?" asked Wally.

Zane snorted. "Who has a landline anymore, Walls?"

Wally rolled his eyes, irritated. "Well I have, and it's not working."

"So? Power's out. It'll probably come back on in an hour or two, it happens. It's, like, ridiculously warm for March this year, even for California. Something probably overheated somewhere—"

"Dude, landlines don't go out when the power does.  _The internet_ doesn't go out when the power does."

Zane leaned back against the doorframe, eyeing Wally critically. "So, you're saying…?"

Wally sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Zane, but this is all seriously fishy. Not  _everything_  should just break down like this. Not all at once."

Zane nodded, then snorted. "Heh. It's kind of ironic, huh? Total technology failure in the heart of Silicon Valley? I wonder if it reaches to Mountain View. I'd like to see the Googlers right now."

Even though he could tell Zane was being facetious, Wally paused to consider it. The effects of a technology collapse in the heart of Silicon Valley certainly could be really damaging, especially to the local tech companies. But to what end? Who would actually benefit from shutting down all the power and communications in the area? Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe Zane was right and it was just a normal power outage, with side-effects. No way did this reach all the way to Mountain View. Still…it couldn't hurt to check…

"Look, Wally, thanks for dropping by and all, but I've gotta go—"

"Sorry, Zane," said Wally, cutting him off again. "But I'm calling in a favor."

Zane narrowed his eyes. "Is this the 'thanks for driving me to the airport' favor?"

Wally shook his head. "Try the 'sat up with you all night and made sure you didn't choke on your own vomit after you drank too much tequila while trying to impress Stephanie Park and utterly failed to do so' favor."

"Damn. Okay, what is it?"

"I need to you take care of Brucely for a while."

"Seriously?" asked Zane. "That's what you're calling in the favor for? How long do you need me to watch him?"

"That's the catch," said Wally, passing the leash over to Zane. "I have no idea."

* * *

**Star City**  
**March 14, 16:37 PDT**  
**Team Year Four**

The blackout went past Mountain View. Way past.

After leaving Brucely at Zane's place, Wally had jogged home again as fast as was believably possible if he were observed by a stranger. Once there, he went straight to the closet in the bedroom that he and Artemis shared, pulled down a nondescript suitcase, now covered in a thin layer of dust, from the top shelf and set it down on the bed, unlatched, and opened it. Inside, there were a couple each of his and Artemis's hero uniforms, as well as his goggles, a quiver full of trick arrows, and Artemis's retracted compound bow and miniature crossbow.

Hey, not everyone could afford a secret underground headquarters to hide their hero gear in.

Wally hesitated for a moment before touching the contents of the case. He and Artemis were retired. Sure, he missed the hero-gig some days, the rush of the wind through his hair and beating the bad guys, but he and Artemis had given it up for a reason. Maybe it was because they were older, and maybe it was because they wanted different things out of their lives now. But really, it was because they realized that being a hero came at a price. Missing out on opportunities in their civilian lives, the constant secrets, the risk to their personal safety…the list went on. And sometimes that price was too high.

It had been too high for Jason Todd.

On some level, Wally had always known he might die as Kid Flash, but before Jason, the possibility never seemed so real. And, although Wally had a hard time admitting this part even to himself, it wasn't just the fact that Jason had died. It was the fact that he died so anonymously, unacknowledged and unmourned by the general populace. Within the Team, nobody even knew his real name except for Dick, Wally, and Barbara. Even in death, as a hero, Jason never had his own identity. He was "the second Robin." As a civilian, he didn't even have the dignity of being buried in a graveyard, or of having an obituary in the newspaper. No one outside of Wayne Manor or the Justice League was allowed to know he had died. It was almost too much to think about some days.

Wally had been the only member of the Team outside of the Bat Family who knew Jason outside of being Robin. Who'd met the wayward kid before he was stealthy enough that he could sneak up on Conner, who'd helped him with his Chemistry homework, who'd taught him pickup lines in exchange for creative swearwords. The fact that he was dead, had been killed so brutally, and had been so young, well…

If that wasn't a wake-up call, what was?

Maybe he and Artemis just wanted a bit of normalcy in their lives. Or maybe they were afraid. No, forget that. Artemis wasn't afraid; she didn't have a cowardly bone in her body as far as Wally was concerned, at least not when it came to being a hero. So maybe he was the only one who was scared.

Wally picked up a fold of yellow, brushing his thumb over the fabric. He shouldn't be opening up this suitcase at all. Retiring was a decision he made with Artemis—putting the uniform back on was a decision he should make with her too. They'd retired for a  _reason_. Was he overreacting? Maybe. Probably. But something just wasn't sitting right in his gut about the whole situation. Maybe nothing would be wrong, but he'd rather go out and check and feel a bit foolish later than sit around at home telling himself that everything was fine.

Okay, sure, part of him was afraid of dying as a hero. But maybe the idea of doing nothing when the world might need him scared him more.

He would just take a spin around, see what he could see. If nothing else seemed suspicious, he'd come straight home, and the uniform could go back in its suitcase where it belonged. If not…well. He'd let future Wally worry about that.

His mind made up, Wally donned the yellow uniform and then, as an afterthought, found a backpack and packed Artemis's gear as well. While he was still telling himself that there probably wasn't a problem and he'd end up coming straight home, he had the nagging feeling that nothing was going to turn out quite like he expected. Artemis may be across the country in Gotham, but for a speedster that was just a hop, skip, and a jump away. He adjusted the straps on the backpack, pulled his goggles over his eyes, and took off.

Wally sped out of Palo Alto, heading for one of the hills that bordered the city. He had to admit, he missed this. The golden hills dotted with California live oaks whipping past him into a green and yellow blur. The sweet spring air rushing in and out of his lungs. The feel of the pavement, and then the dusty dirt beneath his feet. It felt  _good_. He didn't get the chance to run, really  _run_ , very often now that he was out of the uniform. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss it.

It was difficult to assess the extent of the blackout, as it was still the middle of the afternoon and he couldn't easily tell if the lights were on or off, so Wally ran to the top of a hill where he could see as much of Palo Alto as possible. Adjusting the settings on his goggles, he zoomed in and quickly determined that all the stoplights were out, which would make for some pretty interesting traffic as rush hour approached. Knowing that the outage was at least city-wide, Wally sped off, following I-280 through the hills that ran along the highway, overtaking the speeding cars in a yellow and red blur.

Maybe it was because of what Zane said, but he headed south first, pausing to look out over Mountain View. It only took him a few moments to conclude that in was blacked out too.  _Not good_ , thought Wally, the tension in his stomach tightening. He set out again towards the south, leaving the highway when it entered a more urban area. He sped past Cupertino and did a circuit of downtown San Jose, and even looped down Highway 17 as far as Los Gatos. Everything in the South Bay was out. Wally sped up the East Bay as far as Berkeley, then crossed the bay and stopped to look down over San Francisco.

Dark. The power was all out, everywhere.

Maybe if it had just been the power, he could have believed it was an accident, an unfortunate oversight on the part of the power company. Hey, bigger blackouts had happened before right? Maybe if the internet were still working, maybe if he could get a signal on the comm-link that Dick had given him for emergencies, maybe if the landlines were working.

But that was too many maybes.

And that's how he ended up standing on top of a hill overlooking Star City, less than an hour after he locked the door of his apartment in Palo Alto, feeling the pit of dread in his stomach grow larger as he looked down on another darkened city.

Whatever was going on, it sounded like a job for the Justice League. If the entire Bay Area going dark wasn't cause for them to come investigate, he didn't know what was. And since he'd bothered to don the red and yellow again, he figured his best shot at finding a League member to team up with would be coming to Star City, home of Green Arrow and Black Canary.

Now all he had to do was find them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So slightly filler chapter, but I'm getting some more of the cast involved! Just for the sake of clarity, these are the current League and Team members when this story takes place:
> 
> Justice League:
> 
> Superman  
> Batman  
> Wonder Woman  
> Flash  
> Green Lantern (Hal Jordan)  
> Aquaman  
> Martian Manhunter  
> Green Arrow  
> Hawkman  
> Hawkwoman  
> Captain Atom  
> Black Canary  
> Green Lantern (John Stewart)  
> Captain Marvel  
> Red Tornado  
> Doctor Fate  
> Atom  
> Plastic Man  
> Icon
> 
> The Team:
> 
> Nightwing-B01  
> Aqualad-B02  
> Superboy-B04  
> Miss Martian-B05  
> Zatanna-B08  
> Tempest-B10  
> Aquagirl-B11  
> Batgirl-B16
> 
> According to my continuity, Troia, Lt. Marvel, and Sgt. Marvel have already joined and left the Team for various reasons (mainly because I know nothing about them and don't feel like including them…heh). Jason Todd has already been killed, but Tim Drake has not yet joined the Team as the third Robin. Artemis and Wally are officially retired, so not current team members, and Bumblebee, Lagoon Boy, Beast Boy, and Wonder Girl haven't joined yet.
> 
> Rocket isn't here because although it never says for certain in the Young Justice universe, in her original comics she has a baby. In the Young Justice: Invasion comics, Bumblebee asks to see pictures of someone called 'Amistad,' which is the name of Rocket's son in her original comics. So I'm assuming that at that point in the YJ comics (December 2015) Amistad is old enough that Rocket can work full time in the Justice League, but young enough that Karen would want to see the most recent pics of him. Which puts him between 1-2 years old in my headcanon, which makes Rocket either very pregnant or with a newborn riiight about now. So that's where Rocket is :) Also, I don't know very much about her, and honestly this cast is huge enough to begin with, so it's a good excuse for her to be absent from this fic.
> 
> And no, I'm not going to include all the Justice League members in this story…there are too many of them and I'm not crazy. But I just wanted to list everyone for the sake of continuity.
> 
> Also, fun fact, but I live in the Bay Area, so I had a lot of fun describing Wally running around it. I've been commuting a lot for work lately, so I took inspiration from all my long drives up and down 280 to get the city. 280 really is a gorgeous freeway, as freeways go, and I had fun imagining Wally zipping along the hills faster than the cars can go.
> 
> Bouncing off of that, I've decided that Star City is located in the North Bay, sort of if there were a big city where San Rafael is in actuality. I've always kind of imagined that Star City is supposed to be San Francisco, especially since it also has a famous bridge, but I read somewhere that in the DC universe SF also exists, so I stuck Star in the North Bay.
> 
> Wow, that author's note got long! Okay, shutting up now!


	8. Meanwhile, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh my goodness, I am SO SORRY that it's been so long since I updated! I really didn't mean for it to take this long, but this chapter seriously didn't want to be written, for a lot of reasons. I'll try my very best not to make you wait so long for the next update, but I can't make any guarantees. My life has gotten quite busy lately. Basically, I got two internships (which I don't even get paid for, grr) but they take up a lot of time and they're both located about an hour and a half's drive from where I live. So basically, loooots of time commuting, less time writing. :(
> 
> Also, I ran out of plot. Like, I had no idea what was coming next in this story! So I had to take a lot of time and think it through and come up with…something…heh. Aaaand I'll probably have the same problem in a couple chapters. Oops. I guess I'm not good at planning these things out?
> 
> Moving right along to the much-anticipated chapter 8! Fair warning, this chapter is definitely rated T for graphic and upsetting imagery. If you think this might upset you, you can message me for a summary.

**Chapter 8: Meanwhile, Part II**

**Mount Justice**  
**March 14, 18:09 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

"Hmmm," said M'gann, flipping through her cookbook. "Do you think I should make an apple pie or a cherry pie? I have ingredients for both."

"Definitely cherry," said Zatanna from the living room, where she was sprawled on the couch flipping through TV channels. "I don't like apples very much."

"Conner, what do you think?" asked M'gann.

"Either's fine by me," he said shrugging. He was sitting in the armchair, staring at the TV, bored, but relaxed. It was Friday; there was no scheduled training that afternoon and they hadn't had a mission in a couple days. Kaldur, Garth, and Tula had gone out to the ocean to practice their sorcery technique, and in early March the water was still too cold for the rest of them to join them. Conner thought about going out to the beach anyways and stretching his legs, but it was getting late and the three Atlanteans would probably be returning to the Cave soon anyways. For now, he was fine sitting in the living room watching Zatanna flip through channels and talking to M'gann. It was nice to get a break, every now and then.

"Maybe I'll make both…" mused M'gann as she pulled out ingredients and set them out on the counter. "We can invite Nightwing and Batgirl over to help us eat them, if they aren't busy," she added.

"Yeah, 'if they aren't busy,'" remarked Conner. "Barb might come, but Nightwing? He's never  _not_  busy. We only see him anymore if we have a mission or training."

"All the more reason he could use a break!" declared M'gann cheerfully, setting out two pie pans. "Just tell him he has to come over for a 'Team bonding exercise.'" Zatanna snorted appreciatively from the couch, and settled on a rerun of  _Project Runway_.

"Ooh, I know," said M'gann, rummaging through the cupboard for a third pie pan, "I'll make one for Raquel too! I'll drop it off later tomorrow and visit her and Amistad," she said, referring to their third absent teammate and her two-month old son.

All of a sudden, the TV signal cut out and Heidi Klum was replaced by static.

"Hey!" said Zatanna, sitting up, "Conner, I was watching that!"

"Don't look at—" started Conner, but was interrupted when all the lights in the Cave cut off. After a second, there came a low hum from the hangar and the lights flickered once, and then were replaced by a low greenish glow that indicated the Cave was now running on emergency generator power.

"—me," he finished, somewhat lamely.

" _Zeta-Tube network now offline due to unknown connectivity issue_ ," said the automated voice from the Zeta-Tubes.

" _That_  can't be good," said Zatanna, springing up from the couch. M'gann was already flying out of the kitchen and toward the hanger, her pie ingredients forgotten on the kitchen counter.

"Kaldur, come in, we might have a possible security breach," said Conner, keying his comm-link as he raced after his two teammates. "Kaldur? M'gann, I'm not getting a response on the comms!" he called out.

"I'll link us up psychically now," said M'gann. " _Kaldur? Tula? Garth?_ " she called out telepathically.

" _We're here,_ " came Kaldur's steady voice through the mind-link. " _What's happening?_ "

" _Possible security breach,_ " said M'gann. " _Power's out, comms are down, and the Zetas have been compromised._ "

" _Do not rule out the possibility of an attack, but be advised that we are not the only ones affected,_ " said Kaldur.

" _All of Happy Harbor has gone dark_ ," added Tula, a note of awe in her voice.

Conner, Zatanna, and M'gann exchanged glances. While a localized power outage alone might have explained the lights going out, it didn't explain the Zetas malfunctioning. They still needed to tread carefully.

" _It's possible that the Cave is the source of the outage,_ " continued Kaldur. " _If there is a saboteur inside, he or she may have caused a power surge that has affected all of Happy Harbor. Tula, Garth, and I are outside and ready to provide backup should you need it._ "

" _Acknowledged_ ," said M'gann.

They reached the entrance to the hanger and paused as Conner scanned the room for heat signatures. He glanced at Zatanna and M'gann and, still using the mind-link, said " _I don't see any heat signatures inside, but people have gotten around that before._ "

" _I'm going in,_ " said M'gann, her features blurring and camouflaging as she drew up her hood. She took a deep breath and paused for the briefest of moments, and then phased through the door. M'gann had just begun to master density shifting a few months prior, and the technique was still relatively new to her.

There were a few tense moments of silence as M'gann did a sweep of the hanger. " _It's all clear in here,_ " she said after a minute, " _unless we have an invisible saboteur. But I don't detect any mental presences._ "

Zatanna and Conner opened the door and cautiously entered the hanger as M'gann shifted out of camouflage mode and lowered her hood. "Laever tahw si neddih!" cried Zatanna at the empty room, but nothing happened. "Hey," she said, shrugging as Conner and M'gann glanced at her. "Better safe than sorry."

* * *

 **Mount Justice**  
**March 14, 18:46 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

A half hour later, all six of them were gathered in the mission room. After determining that there was no saboteur, at least that they could find any evidence of, they had attempted to figure out what exactly  _was_  wrong with the Cave's power system and if the blackout in Happy Harbor really had emanated from a power surge in the Cave or if it was the other way around. They also tried reaching out to the Justice League but found that not only their comm-links, but also all communications from the mission room weren't working, nor could they access the internet. They'd spent the past thirty minutes running tedious system check after system check, and after all the tension of a possible breach of security, Conner thought the whole thing was pretty anticlimactic. He'd been ready to fight, and instead was stuck in the Cave surrounded by teammates who were quibbling over useless pieces of technology. He scowled.

"This doesn't make any sense," said M'gann, for what must have been the tenth time. "A power outage shouldn't affect communications like this. And before the power cut out, we lost the television signal. A localized power outage couldn't cause that."

"Not to mention the internet," added Tula. "And it doesn't look like any texts or phone calls are going through," she said, holding up a cellphone she had borrowed from M'gann.

"What concerns me the most is our inability to contact the Justice League coupled with the failure of the Zeta-Tubes," said Kaldur, frowning. "It suggests that this blackout is somehow targeted at us."

"But if we were under attack, wouldn't we be…under attack by now?" asked Garth. They all glanced at each other. He had a point.

"Ugh," said Zatanna, shifting her stance and rubbing her temples. "This is ridiculous. You'd think the Justice League would have tech support or something," she said irritably.

"I think Nightwing is the League's tech support," remarked M'gann lightly, running another system check on the nearest computer. "Or Batman, but I've never been brave enough to ask _him_  to help me when I can't get my computer to work." M'gann smiled at Zatanna, the comment evidently meant to cheer her up, but Zatanna only scowled in frustration.

"I've had enough of this," said Conner. They'd been standing around for the past half hour poking at computers that weren't working, and he was getting fed up. And he had a headache.

"Me too," said Zatanna, surprising Conner a little. Usually when he stormed out in a bad mood, nobody else wanted to come with him.

Conner shrugged and walked over to Sphere, but before he got there, Kaldur placed a hand on his arm, holding him back. "I will not stop you," said Kaldur, "but I must request that you try to stay within M'gann's psychic range. We haven't yet ruled out the possibility that we are under some sort of attack. Without our comm-links, I'd rather not risk you running into trouble without the ability to call us for back-up."

Conner scowled and shook off Kaldur's hand. "I'm not making any promises," he said, and stalked off toward Sphere.

Conner whistled for Wolf as Sphere shifted into Super-Cycle mode, but frowned when Wolf didn't appear. "Wolf!" he called, and whistled again. After a moment, Wolf trudged around the corner toward Conner, a low growl rumbling from his throat. It was clear that the growl wasn't directed toward Conner or anyone else in the room, but seemed to be a general growl of unease. "Hey," said Conner. "What's going on?" But Wolf only shook his head back and forth, then shook out his whole body, and jumped into the front seat of the Super-Cycle. Zatanna was already in the Super-Cycle, eyes closed and massaging her temples. Conner shrugged again. Normally, he might have been more worried about Wolf's odd behavior, but right now he was having trouble focusing. His headache was getting worse and he just wanted to get outside, figure out what the trouble was, and maybe punch something in the process.

Kaldur rejoined the rest of the group as the Super-Cycle roared out of the Cave. His eyes fell on M'gann, who had a small frown on her face and was biting her lip as she watched the Super-Cycle fly away. Sensing his eyes on her, M'gann glanced over at Kaldur and saw her concerned frown reflected on his face.

"He hasn't stormed off like that in such a long time," she said softly, so only Kaldur could hear her. "I mean, he still gets impatient, that's just the way he is, but…" she sighed.

"I know," said Kaldur. "I had noticed that Conner has been less impulsive ever since Superman took him under his wing. This behavior is not like him…at least, not recently. Zatanna, too, is acting out of character."

"I don't sense any psychic intrusions…" said M'gann uncertainly. "Maybe it's nothing. They both just seem really irritated."

"Perhaps," said Kaldur, uncertainly. "And perhaps there is something larger at play."

* * *

Rather than improving his mood, Conner was feeling just as irritated as he had in the Cave now that he was out of it. His headache was still persistently pounding behind his temples, and between him, Wolf, and Zatanna, the tension in the Super-Cycle was nearly palpable. Circling high over Happy Harbor, they could see that the town was quickly being engulfed by darkness as the sun sank below the western horizon, but to Conner's annoyance, there didn't actually seem to be any emergencies or conflicts on the ground that indicated trouble. He tried listening to see if he could hear anyone saying anything that might indicate that the power outage was caused by sabotage, but could only hear normal conversations and people mildly wondering when the power might come back on. Happy Harbor itself was a small town, and there didn't even seem to be any emergencies caused by the blackout. Traffic generally wasn't that congested, and commuters seemed to be doing just fine by treating the intersections with malfunctioning traffic lights like stop signs.

All in all, there was nothing that indicated the blackout was nefarious or by design. And why would anyone target Happy Harbor for a purposeful blackout anyway? The only thing worth attacking in the town was Mount Justice, but Mount Justice wasn't under attack. Conner would be inclined to think the blackout was just a coincidence, if it weren't for the Zeta-Tube shut down. And the fact that no radio signals were working. And that the internet seemed to have blipped out of existence…okay, so it wasn't a coincidence. Couldn't be.

Conner shook his head in frustration. If only his headache would go away.

"Ugh," said Zatanna after a few minutes of silence. "Thanks for letting me come along. I needed to get out of there. My head is killing me." She said the last sentence under her breath, and if it weren't for Conner's super hearing, he probably wouldn't have heard it over the roar of the wind and the Super-Cycle's engine.

Conner glanced back at Zatanna, noticing for the first time the expression of discomfort on her face. He'd been so wrapped up in how he was feeling that he hadn't fully registered how strange Zatanna was acting. It was unusual, but then again, so was his headache. He was half Kryptonian and could withstand a sledgehammer to the face, if it came to it, without so much as a lingering twinge. He didn't  _get_  headaches, not normally. So why was he having one now? And combine that with how Zatanna was acting…

"Zatanna?" said Conner, considering. "When did your headache start?"

She looked up at him, one hand still pressing into her temple. "I really started noticing it when we were in the hanger trying to get the comms to work." she said slowly. "Why?"

"Because I have a killer headache too," said Conner slowly. "And Wolf's also been acting strange since the blackout started."

Zatanna looked back at him, catching on to what he was implying. "Our powers have almost nothing in common," she said. "What could possibly be affecting just the two of us and Wolf but no one else on the Team?" she asked.

"I have no idea," said Conner, steering the Super-Cycle back toward Mount Justice. "But I don't believe in coincidences."

* * *

 **Star City**  
**March 14, 16:02 PDT**  
**Team Year Four**

_Now all he had to do was find them._

As Wally raced through the streets of Star City, he was beginning to wonder if finding the city's heroes would be easier said than done.

"Stupid superheroes and their stupid…secrets!" panted Wally as he skidded to a stop on a sidewalk. He knew that Green Arrow had some sort of secret Arrow…bunker…or something somewhere in the city, but he had no idea where it was. He was beginning to understand just how much the Justice League depended on their comm-links to get anything done. Half the League didn't trust other members with their secret identities, and even if you  _did_  know who they really were under their masks, it didn't mean they advertised the locations of their various secret headquarters. How were you supposed to find any of these people in a crisis without a comm-link? How had the Justice Society done it back in the day? But even they had radios to work with.

So maybe Wally knew that Green Arrow was Oliver Queen. Hell if he knew where to  _find_  him. Let alone Black Canary.

"Hey, is that Flash Kid?"

"What's he doing here? Isn't he from, like, Nebraska or something?"

"I didn't know there still  _was_  a Flash Kid."

"It's  _Kid Flash_!" said Wally, looking around at the small group of onlookers that had gathered around him. "Seriously, I've been around for  _years_. How long does it take you people to get it right?"

"What's going on?" asked one woman, ignoring his outburst. "When's the power going to come back on?"

"And are things really so bad that they have to send in heroes from  _Nebraska_?" added a teenager sarcastically.

Wally suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Okay, first of all, I'm not from Nebraska, and second of all, even if I was, why do you gotta say it like it's such a bad thing? And third of all, I don't know when the power will come back on, but I can tell you that I and the rest of the Justice League are working our hardest on the problem and in the meantime, you should all make your way home as quietly and calmly as possible. Please." The last point was a bit of a white lie, but Wally didn't care. He just wanted these civilians out of his hair.

But rather than convincing them to go away, he was actually beginning to attract a bit of a crowd. Before he could attract any more unwanted attention, Wally zipped between the bystanders and was three streets down and in someone's side yard before they could shout for him to come back.

Wally leaned back against a wall and groaned in frustration. "Come on, KF," he said to himself. "Get your head back in the game." He couldn't believe how rusty he was. Okay, forget finding the arrow cave or whatever it was. GA probably wasn't even there.

If he wanted to find Green Arrow and Black Canary, he just had to go to where the trouble was.

Which again, was easier said than done. Because trouble, in varying degrees, was kinda  _everywhere_  right now. Traffic accidents, kids stranded on their way home from school once the busses and subways stopped running, theft (stranded drivers stealing bicycles to make their way home, while others jacked tires and other spare parts off of abandoned cars), and he was betting that there were at least a few people already raiding grocery stores for supplies and rations. But as much as his hero instincts were telling him to nab every thief and vandal, he simply didn't have time to focus on every little thing right now. He needed to contact the Justice League through Black Canary and Green Arrow, figure out why the Blackout was happening, fix it, and then be home by morning. That was his ideal plan, at least. He could help GA and BC catch petty thieves  _after_  the lights were back on.

Wally skidded to a halt again. He thought he heard something...sirens? That was something. In a city that didn't have an organized emergency response system, sirens were definitely something to pay attention to. And it didn't sound like they were moving.

He turned his head, searching for the source, and then changed directions headed toward it.

He was met with a scene of pure chaos.

Wally would find out later, once all the injured and dead had been removed from the scene, after the sirens stopped wailing and the police were able to survey the damage, after all the heroes who had worked nonstop through the night to pull survivors from the wreckage had gone home, (heroes who were cops and firefighters, but also civilians who had helped even though they didn't have to), that it had all been an accident, one of those tragedies that never should have happened. There were procedures in place for this sort of thing. But even in the best of circumstances, it only took one or two things going wrong to cause a disaster. And in this case, the final factor was the Blackout.

The driver of the train ought to have known better, to have followed the safety regulations already in place for when there was a loss of communications. But the engineer was young and inexperienced, and the railway had a history of punishing engineers if trains were late. Maybe he didn't slow down because he was afraid of getting fired. Maybe he didn't think that the tracks might not be aligned the way they were supposed to be because of the blackout. Maybe he didn't realize there  _was_ a blackout.

Not that they could ask him. The driver, along with everyone who had been in the first car, was dead.

Wally was momentarily frozen as he took in the scene before him. The first five or so cars of the train had come completely off the tracks and were crushed against each other, the carriages cracked open like eggshells. In the distance there were two parked police cars, which must have already been nearby when the crash happened, that were blaring their sirens, sounding the call for help with their mournful wail, their lights staining the smoke drifting from the wreckage red and blue.

A pitched keening rose above the noise, cutting through the blare of the sirens and sending a chill down Wally's spine. There was something in it that triggered a primal fear in Wally, some universal grief. He raced to the source, dread pooling in his stomach, and tore aside pieces of debris to get inside the battered train car, which was lying on its side. Inside, there was a woman, clutching two little boys. They couldn't have been older than three. Twins. One of them squirmed in his mother's grasp, hot tears rolling down his cheeks as he grabbed fistfuls of her clothes, her red hair, a wavering cry pouring from his throat.

The other was still.

Wally was next to the woman in a moment, but she didn't seem to notice him. She was wailing, sobbing, clutching her boys to her chest. Her cry was the universal sound of a mother who has lost her child, the sound of the irreparable raw wound of loss.

"Are—are you hurt?" Wally asked her instead. There was a deep cut on her forehead and blood was running down her face. She needed medical attention. She choked back her sobs as she registered his presence.

"Please, help my babies," she sobbed. "Please help them." Wally looked down at the children in her arms. He could tell just by looking that he was too late for the first one. He was so still. But Wally checked his pulse anyways, hoping he would feel a faint flutter, that he would be proven wrong.

Nothing. Wally swallowed and pushed aside the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. In all his time as Kid Flash, he'd faced death himself many times. Teammates had fallen. Innocents had suffered. But never had he seen anything so horrifying as this.

But the other boy. The other boy was alive.

 _Focus on him, Wally_ , he thought to himself.  _Focus on_ keeping _him alive._

Wally turned to the second boy, whose screams were subsiding. He was also wounded, a large bruise blossoming on his head. There was no question, both mother and son needed to get to a hospital.

The woman was still clutching the boys, sobbing and shaking. "Please, I need to get you out of here. Can you walk?" asked Wally. But she just sat there, sobs wracking her body. "Hey, what's your name?" he asked. But she kept shaking, clearly overwhelmed, unable to respond. "Hey, now," he said, in what he hoped was a soothing tone, fighting to keep the fear and sorrow from edging into his own voice. "Can you look at me?" he asked softly.

It was slow, ever so slow, but she brought her red and swollen eyes to meet his. "What's your name?" he asked again.

"L-Lauren," she said, after a few seconds.

"Okay Lauren," said Wally. "We need to get out of here. Can you walk?"

She didn't respond, just shaking her head and sobbing.

"Lauren," said Wally, a little more forcefully. "I need you to help me get your boys out of here."

She moaned, low and heavy. The sound nearly broke Wally's heart. "No, Chris, my baby…I can't…"

"Yes, you can," said Wally firmly. "Lauren, I know this is hard. This is the hardest thing you've ever done. But I can't carry you all out of here, and I'm not going to leave you behind." Wally hesitated, already feeling guilty for the words he was about to speak. "Lauren, I need you to be strong for the son you still have."

A sob tore through her body and she clamped a hand over her mouth. But she nodded.

Wally wasn't entirely sure how they picked their way, slowly, haltingly, out of the wreckage, Wally supporting Lauren with one arm as she limped through the debris. But soon they were clear of the wreck, and someone was there, handing them water, wrapping her in a blanket, examining her and her son's wounds.

Wally felt a little numb. He was trying not to focus on the sound of Lauren's sobs that still echoed in his ears, or the memory of the limp body he could still feel in his arms. But there were others, other victims spread along the sidewalk, and different people, some wearing uniforms, but most not, most just civilians who lived nearby, offering blankets and bottles of water, or storeowners who were providing medical supplies from their shelves.

He almost wasn't surprised when he felt a firm grip on his shoulder and turned to see Black Canary standing next to him.

She'd be where the trouble was, right?

"Kid Flash?" she asked. He wasn't entirely sure what she was asking him when she said his name. Was he okay? Was it really him? Was he 'Kid Flash' and not Wally? Could she count on him? He didn't know, but whatever she was asking, the answer was yes. He nodded. She didn't ask him where he'd come from or why he was here, and for that he was grateful. What would he have told her? That's he'd come to her city to find a way to end the Blackout? Ending the Blackout seemed suddenly insignificant compared to the tragedy in front of them.

"Kid Flash, I'm glad you're here," she said in the steady tone he remembered from their therapy sessions after the botched simulation. "None of the city's communication systems are working. We don't have enough resources here to help everyone, and many of these people need medical attention. I need you to go through the city and spread the word. Go to the hospitals and tell them what's happening. Raise the ambulances. Find as many emergency responders as you can and get them here."

"But the people here—" started Wally.

"No," said Canary. "A lot of these people won't stand a chance if help doesn't come to them." She lowered her voice and said, "You can't carry every person here to the hospital by yourself. But you're the only person here who can bring help fast enough."

Wally swallowed and nodded, his eyes flickering over the scene again. His eye caught a flash of Lauren's bright red hair, a lump of grief rising in his throat.  _Later_ , he thought, pushing it away.  _Later_. "Okay," he said, looking back to Canary. "But are you sure you and GA can handle things here for now?"

Canary's gaze dropped from his and for the first time her voice wavered. "I—I don't know where he is."

Wally looked hard at her, worry filling his eyes. "What do you mean?" he started.

Black Canary looked down, absently brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead, her eyes flickering between the crash and the victims lying on the pavement. "He was supposed to be meeting an investor this afternoon, but I don't know where," she said quietly. "He didn't mention it and I didn't ask and…and it's not like him not to be here," she finished, swallowing back a tremor in her voice.

Without even thinking about it, Wally pulled Black Canary into a hug. She was stiff for a moment, then relaxed and gently squeezed him back. He wasn't sure why he did it. He hadn't been planning on it, and it was something he never would have done if he were still on the Team. Black Canary was a mentor, a teacher, a  _rock_. Maybe he was just finally old enough to grasp that being a hero didn't mean you were fearless. Or maybe seeing her scared made him a little scared too.

"I'm sure he's fine," she said, pulling away. "But thanks anyways," she added, giving the smallest of smiles. And without another word, she turned away toward the wreckage, searching for more victims.

He knew he'd been trying to comfort Black Canary, so why did it feel like he was the one who'd been comforted instead?

Wally shook his head and pushed it all aside. Lauren and her boys. Green Arrow's absence. The countless others still awaiting rescue in the rubble.  _Later_ , he thought. Right now, there was work to do.


	9. Meanwhile, Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ...I'm back! I told you I was still working on this, didn't I? ;)
> 
> Before I get on with it, I just wanted to address a couple things. First of all, I changed my username! I used to be shatteredrainbow and now I am batastrophe, which I think is about 10000x better. I was super over my old username about, oh, five years ago, but never thought of anything to replace it until now. And just to be extra confusing, I changed my profile pic at the same time (now it's Batgirl from Year One and it's bright and colorful and full of action and I love it). Apologies if this was confusing for anyone, but it's still the same old me.
> 
> Secondly, most of you probably don't care about this at all, but I went ahead and made myself a tumblr associated with my fanfic self. It's batastrophe7 . tumblr . com (remove spaces) and I encourage anyone who feels like it to follow me and talk Young Justice/comics with me. I post fic over there too, and sometimes maybe if people are interested I will post WIP scenes from Blackout. (I diagrammed a fight scene that happens in a few chapters and I kinda really want to post it but don't know if anyone will care...? Tell me what to do.)
> 
> Thirdly, (and this one's super important.) Have you all heard the rumors about Young Justice season 3? Basically, on Feb 1 Netflix (finally) released season 2 for streaming. Ever since then, Weisman et al have been encouraging fans to binge watch it to demonstrate that the show is still popular and has demand and, most importantly, could be lucrative. There are some pretty serious rumors that Netflix is viewing those numbers and considering picking up the show for a third season...so basically, the point is, if you would like more YJ and you have Netflix, STREAM IT NOW. Seriously. I've had it running on auto on mute for the past...several weeks...heh. Unfortunately I think you can only do this if you're in the US or Canada, but if you are, please consider streaming a few of your favorite eps and boosting interest in the show on the part of Netflix!
> 
> Fourthly, (okay, this is getting excessive, but it's been four months and I have a lot to say?) I posted another YJ fanfic! It's called 'Limits' and takes place during season 1. It's short and v. cute and it's basically about Robin falling asleep in the Cave and the Team being cute and him being cute and then there is daddybats and it is cute. Go ahead and check it out.
> 
> And finally, about this story: I'm honestly really sorry it took me this long to get up, but suffice it to say that portions of this chapter did not want to be written...and unfortunately I think it shows in those portions...but you've all waited long enough, so here it is regardless! Also I'm kicking myself for bothering with the timestamp nonsense that I'm 9999% sure nobody actually pays attention to, and it turns out is ridiculously annoying and actually delayed this chapter quite a bit. (I literally have a dedicated document on my computer that is just keeping track of the timestamps in this thing.)
> 
> And lastly, since y'all waited so long, this chapter is extra long. (It's almost 9,000 words. Remember that time I posted a chapter that was only like 900 words? Yeah idk what I was thinking either.)
> 
> Okay! On with the fic!

 

 

Cartoons » Young Justice » **Blackout**  
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|  Author: batastrophe | 1\. Blackout 2. Reunion 3. Distraught 4. Identity Crisis 5. We'll Laugh About This Someday 6. Enter Barbara 7. Meanwhile, Part I 8. Meanwhile, Part II 9. Meanwhile, Part III  
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| Rated: T - English - Adventure/Friendship - Reviews: 79 - Published: 07-01-15 - Updated: 02-24-16 | id:11350940  
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**Chapter 9: Meanwhile, Part III**

**Gotham City**  
March 14, 19:32 EST  
Team Year Four

Batman arrived in Gotham just as the sun's last rays were snuffed out by the horizon, throwing the city's distinctive skyline into shadow. As the shuttle had raced toward Gotham, Batman spent the time thinking about the Blackout and how it could have happened. He concluded three things: First, although it would be far simpler to use a large-scale EMP emitter, the culprit had not done so. Second, since an EMP wasn't used, that meant that several of the services affected by the Blackout had been targeted separately, yet simultaneously. And third, and most importantly: whoever the culprits were, they were a large and terribly efficient organization that had resources across the entire globe.

But to what end? Why target the entire _world_?The simplest purpose Batman could see behind such an attack was to terrorize, to cause mass panic and unrest. But then again, most organizations large enough to pull off an attack on this scale wouldn't simply want to watch the world burn. Even the evilest villains and organizations Batman had faced committed their crimes in order to gain something, with the exception of the Joker. But a world-wide blackout was a far cry from Joker's usual style and certainly outside his means, besides the fact that he was currently in Arkham Asylum.

What then? A ransom? It was possible. It was a tactic the Injustice League had used before. But under the current circumstances, how would the culprit issue a ransom demand, let alone expect the government to be able to coordinate the funds? Yet he couldn't rule out the possibility until he knew more about how the Blackout was orchestrated.

But before he could investigate further, he needed to check a couple things in Gotham. Earlier, he had told Flash that they needed to focus on the big picture rather than individual emergencies, and while that was still true, it also wouldn't do for Batman to be completely absent during the crisis. He needed to sustain what confidence the GCPD had in him, mainly through Gordon, and provide the commissioner with context. Besides that, his larger motivation was to ensure nothing catastrophic had happened in Gotham because of the Blackout; prison breaks were all too common in his city.

Batman flew the shuttle low and silent over Gotham's streets. As he approached the police station he could see the changes that had already taken hold of his city; here and there, electrical transformers had burst into flames, threatening to burn down neighboring buildings. Emergency responders were still working on evacuating the thousands of commuters who had been stranded on the subway, and those who couldn't make the long journey home that night on foot had gathered around small fires burning in parks and on street corners for warmth. Vandals were smashing the windows of abandoned cars, stealing stereos and tires, and looters were already breaking into convenience stores. He itched to put a stop to it, but understood that he would only be treating symptoms of the larger problem. He flew on.

He set the shuttle down on the helipad atop the police station and leaped down to the roof, passing a dark Bat Signal pointed uselessly at the sky. He hoped the Commissioner would be in his office, otherwise it would be a wasted journey. He secured a grapple line and lowered himself down the side of the building, counting the windows until he came to Gordon's office. He perched on the windowsill and peered through the glass. The room was dark, of course, except for the beam of a police-issue flashlight which cast eerie shadows on Gordon's face as he flipped through a bundle of papers on his desk. Batman quietly picked the lock on the window, then silently opened it and slipped inside.

Gordon looked up abruptly when he felt the draught from the window but took a few moments to spot Batman in the shadows.

"It's about time you showed up," he grumbled as he finally spotted Batman.

Batman raised an eyebrow under his cowl. That was the second time someone had said that to him in as many hours.

"We've got a city-wide power outage and communications blackout," continued Gordon, oblivious. "The force's organization is _gutted_ , I've got people rioting on the streets, and the mayor wants to call in the National Guard, except none of the phones are working. And I'm really doubting," he concluded, lighting a cigarette, "that you have anything good to tell me."

"I'm afraid not, Jim," said Batman. "The Blackout isn't just in Gotham—it's affecting the whole world. The League is working on finding a solution, but I'm afraid I won't be able to assist things on the ground here until we do."

"I'm sorry, I'm still back on the part about this being the whole world. The whole _world_?" Gordon took a long drag on his cigarette and then sighed, the smoke billowing around his face. "You know, at first I was going to ask how, but I realize that's probably an exercise in futility. What can I do to help stop it?"

Before Batman could answer the door to Gordon's office swung open and a petite woman with red hair strode in, holding an armful of papers and a flashlight.

"Dad, I've stationed Detectives Hernandez and Buckley at the hospital, so they can cover anything there—oh!" she said when she looked up and spotted Batman. She glanced between the two of them, then settled her gaze on her father, who also seemed a little taken off guard. "Someone you want to introduce me to, dad?" she asked flawlessly.

"Uh, this is my daughter, Barbara," said Gordon, looking annoyed. "She's taken it upon herself to coordinate a communications system during the crisis."

"Which, as I was about to tell you, has already been used successfully to rescue three car crash victims and subdue at least one riot." She frowned. "I thought you were quitting smoking."

"And I thought I asked you to leave police business to the police, but we can't all get what we want," grumbled Gordon, though he stubbed out his cigarette anyways.

Batman looked at Barbara as Gordon was distracted with the ashtray. He silently sent her a question: _are you useful here?_

She nodded. But silently questioned back: _Do you need me?_

He considered for a moment, but it seemed she was more useful as a civilian in the GCPD right now than she would be as Batgirl. He shook his head the slightest amount.

"This…communications system," Batman began, directing the question at Barbara. "Have there been any reported sightings of any of my people?"

Gordon looked sharply at Batman. "I actually forgot. This Blackout…It means none of you capes have radios either, do you?" Batman ignored him. He didn't like to betray weaknesses in his or the League's organization, even to Gordon, but the answer was self-evident.

"No," said Barbara, adjusting her grip on the pile of papers in her arms. "Some of the guys downstairs were getting a little concerned. They've gotten used to you guys swooping in."

"Figures," snorted Gordon. "They condemn you bats when you're around, only to complain about it when you're not."

Batman frowned. The news elicited a mixed reaction. On the one hand, it meant that at least Robin hadn't snuck out and attempted to quell the madness single-handedly; he'd rarely been out in the field even under Batman's supervision and was strictly forbidden from venturing out alone. It seemed that, thankfully, Tim took his rules a bit more seriously than either of his predecessors had. But on the other hand, while he knew why Batgirl hadn't been sighted, it meant that Nightwing was unaccounted for. It was entirely possible that he too was at the Batcave, and equally possible that he had gone to Mt. Justice and was now stranded in Happy Harbor. But there was no point worrying about it at the moment. Wherever he was, Batman knew Dick would be doing whatever he could to help out with the crisis. It was his nature.

"One last thing, Jim," said Batman. "Arkham."

It was almost as though you could feel the temperature in the room drop. All three of them knew who was incarcerated in Arkham right now, and why.

"The first thing I did was send people over to make sure that place was still airtight," growled Gordon. "I'm not letting that sick bastard get loose on my streets again."

Batman nodded, and felt something in his stomach unclench a little. If he were honest, making sure Gordon had Arkham under control was his main motivation for coming here tonight. He turned toward the window, easing it open again.

"You'll let me know," called Gordon, "if there's something I can do to help end this?"

Batman paused. "I will, Jim. But I sincerely doubt there will be." With that, he fired his grappling gun and ascended to the roof. Gotham was in the commissioner's hands, for now.

* * *

 

Batman flew past Wayne Manor toward the dense forest that lay beyond the mansion, setting the shuttle down in a clearing a few miles away. Normally he would have landed the shuttle in the Batcave alongside the Batmobile and Batplane, but under the current circumstances that wasn't possible. Though the Batcave was powered independently by a hydrogen-fueled generator, without radio signals he had no way of opening the entrance and no way of signaling Robin or Alfred without revealing a Justice League shuttle hovering above Wayne Manor.

Pressing a series of seemingly random buttons on the control panel, Batman opened a secret compartment that no one else in the Justice League would have been aware of, except perhaps Superman, if he had bothered to scan the shuttles with his x-ray vision. Inside were a few sets of civilian clothing, some that were anonymous in nature, some that were more like something Bruce Wayne would wear. He quickly changed into a set of plain civilian clothes, stowing his Batsuit in the false bottom of a knapsack, which also contained some essential survival tools: a compass, knife, bottled water, lighter, and flashlight. He doubted he would need most of the items; he had paid careful attention to the direction he was flying. But it was always far preferable to be prepared.

Outside, he draped a camouflage net over the length of the shuttle, obscuring it from any potential aerial viewers. He was far enough away from any hiking trails that he didn't expect any errant hikers to stumble upon it, though if they did, the camouflage net would not hide it well enough. Even so, he'd landed far enough away from the manor to avoid suspicion. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do.

Slinging the knapsack over his shoulder, he consulted the stars and set off towards the manor, choosing to let the stars and the nearly-full moon illuminate his path rather than use the flashlight in the pack. He moved at a brisk pace, aware that every moment spent in the woods was a moment wasted. He eventually found himself hiking up a hill, and once at the top of it, he paused to get his bearings. He could barely make it out in the darkness, but Wayne Manor was about a mile and a half ahead of him, and beyond it Gotham sprawled beneath a blanket of stars. It wasn't the first time that he had seen them with such clarity, but it was the first time he had seen them over Gotham. He paused for the briefest of moments. Once the Blackout ended, it would be a sight no one would ever see again.

* * *

**Mount Justice**  
March 14, 19:44 EST  
Team Year Four

"Conner! You're back!" M'gann said as Conner landed the Super-Cycle in the hanger and leapt down from the pilot's seat. He could feel her nudging in his mind—he still felt irritable, on edge, and was tempted to throw up his walls against her, but instead took a breath and forced himself to relax.

" _Conner, what's wrong?_ " she asked on a private mental link, her voice quiet and concerned.

" _I'm alright, M'gann—at least I'm pretty sure I am. Don't worry. I'll explain to everyone._ " He felt her worry ebb, but she still gave him a concerned glance.

"It's good that you're back," said Kaldur as Conner approached the group. Conner looked at them in slight surprise; along with the team members he and Zatanna had left behind, the Flash was also now among their number, standing slightly to the side of the group, speaking seriously to Garth and Tula, their faces dimly lit by the emergency lighting in the Cave. "The Flash has just given us some disturbing news. Miss Martian attempted to reach you telepathically, only you did not remain within her range like I requested." There was a slight note of warning in his voice and Conner glanced away guiltily. He hadn't really meant to storm off, but he just felt like there was so much _noise_ in his head—he couldn't deal with the mental voices of the Team at the same time. "But no matter," said Kaldur, his voice warming again. "You and Zatanna are here now."

"Yeah, and we might have some disturbing news of our own," she said, walking up from behind Conner, a hand to her temple. "Though we're still working out the details," she muttered, frowning.

Kaldur raised his eyebrows, questioning, but Conner responded first. "You go first," he said quickly. "It might help if Zatanna and I had some context."

"I'll get to the point then," replied Kaldur. "It seems this 'Blackout' is global—shortly after six o'clock Eastern Standard Time, all electronic communication, including cellular, radio, and online communication stopped working—why, we don't yet know. At the same time, all power outside of independent generators and battery power failed."

Conner blinked, shocked, and Zatanna's eyes widened, a hand flying to her mouth. "'Global?'" she repeated. "That could be catastrophic!"

"And it has been in some parts of the world," said Kaldur.

"So what's Flash doing here?" asked Conner. "And what's he planning with Garth and Tula?"

"He explained before you got here," said M'gann quickly. "Since all communications are down, the League doesn't have any way of communicating other than through the Flash—he's been running messages for the rest of the League since the crisis started."

"A Flash Pony Express," said Zatanna. "Crude, but effective."

"Flash has reported that there's a nuclear power plant in Rhelasia that's overheating in three of its reactors," continued M'gann. "Captain Atom is there now, and can absorb any excess radiation the reactors give off, but he's powerless to stop them from actually melting down. But if he can cool them down soon, he can avoid meltdown to begin with."

"I believe the words he used were 'nip it in the bud,'" said Kaldur, a hint of a smile on his lips. "The reactor is coastal, but the cooling mechanisms that normally move seawater through the cooling chambers aren't working because of the Blackout. Aquaman is currently unreachable in Atlantis, and is likely otherwise occupied."

"So Flash came to the Team because we have the only available Atlanteans," said Conner.

"Yes. Flash is briefing Tula and Garth on the situation in more detail," said Kaldur. "They will depart shortly."

"What about you?" asked Zatanna.

"The two of them should be more than sufficient to contain the situation," said Kaldur. "I am more concerned with how the rest of this Team can work to solve the crisis." Kaldur frowned at Conner and Zatanna. "I am also concerned by your behavior. You said you had news for us?"

Conner and Zatanna glanced at each other, unsure. Zatanna sighed. "We're…not exactly sure what's going on ourselves. Honestly, it's more of a hunch than anything—"

Kaldur smiled at Zatanna. "This Team has embarked on important missions on hunches before," he said. "If I recall correctly, your very first mission with us was entirely based on pursuing 'a truly dumb idea.' Any clue, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, could prove to be invaluable."

"Kaldur," interrupted Garth as he walked over, Tula just behind him. "Tula and I are ready."

"Good," said Kaldur. "You can take the Super-Cycle now that Superboy is back. Work with Captain Atom until this and any other situation he encounters are contained. We will stay in contact with you through the Flash."

Garth and Tula nodded, and a few moments later they were gone, the roar of the Super-Cycle echoing back through the hangar.

"So what's this I hear about you guys having news?" asked Flash, zipping over to them.

"It's…not exactly news," said Conner, pressing his palm to his head and frowning. "But something's not right. I didn't really notice at first, but ever since the Blackout started I've been feeling…off."

Flash looked sharply at Conner, his gaze intent. "Off how?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," he said. ""I just feel…irritated. Annoyed. There's too much _noise_. But that's not even the weirdest bit. Whatever this is, it's affecting Zatanna and Wolf too."

Flash turned to Zatanna, the concern evident on his face. "Same symptoms?" he asked.

"Not exactly," said Zatanna uncertainly. "It's…I feel like there's this pressure in my head. It's not noise, exactly…I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "It's difficult to focus. I hadn't even really realized it was happening until Conner made the connection between how we were feeling."

"Wolf isn't exactly average either," said M'gann. "Conner, you said you felt like there was too much noise. With your super hearing and Wolf's enhanced biology, maybe you're both picking up on some sort of frequency the rest of us can't hear!"

"Except that I don't have super hearing," said Zatanna, clearly frustrated.

"No, but it's increasingly clear that whatever is causing you and Superboy's symptoms is connected," added Kaldur. "This suggests both a sonic and magical element."

Flash pursed his lips, thinking. "I talked with Superman earlier, and he was acting similarly," he said. "And he's all the way in Metropolis busy catching falling planes, which rules out the possibility of this being caused by something you might have been exposed to on a mission. Whatever's going on with this Blackout, I'm willing to bet whatever you two are picking up on is in the center of it."

"What about…other magic users in the League?" asked Zatanna.

Flash sighed. "I haven't located Doctor Fate yet," he said. "But whatever it is you're sensing, he's likely picked up on it too. I'll keep an eye out for him, but he can be…elusive." Zatanna avoided the Flash's eyes, frowning. "For now, pinning down this lead is your top priority," he continued. "Superboy, do you think you can hone in on whatever's making this noise?"

Conner frowned, concentrating. If he really focused, he could hear a dim, shrill buzzing, but it was so...distant. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "It's so faint I didn't even notice I _was_ hearing anything before. I can hear something if I really try, but I don't know if I'll be able to track it to the source."

"What about you, Zatanna?" asked M'gann, hopefully.

"I'm not even sure what it is I'm detecting," she said doubtfully. "I have a few ideas I can try, but I'm going to need some time to figure this out, let alone see if I can pinpoint where it's coming from."

"Okay," mused Flash. "Keep looking into this. It's the first solid lead we've had on this disaster since it began."

"The first?" asked Conner, startled. "What's the rest of the League been doing?"

"Putting out fires," said Flash grimly.

"So who's finding the arsonist?"

"Batman is working on figuring out who's behind all this," said Flash, "but I haven't had the chance to check in with him since this all began. I was planning on heading his way next, before going to the west coast to liaise with Black Canary and Green Arrow." Flash rubbed his head, thinking.

"Flash," said Kaldur, "I suggest that the Team remains here and investigates these clues, focusing on finding the source of this…disturbance, whatever it may be."

Flash nodded. "I'll head to Gotham, report what you've found out to Batman, and see if he's dug up anything of his own. I'll head back here afterwards and get you all up to speed…I'll have to push back going to Star City for now. And get ready for an away mission," Flash added. "Most of the League is tied up with emergencies right now. If you find out where this…whatever it is, is coming from, I think you guys are going to be the ones going after it."

Kaldur nodded. "Agreed. We will see you shortly, Flash."

Flash nodded quickly, and then was gone.

* * *

"Alfred?" called Bruce, entering the manor. It was nearly pitch dark inside, except for a lone nineteenth-century style kerosene lamp placed on a side table that cast and eerie flicker across the entrance hall.

"Ah, Master Bruce," said Alfred, appearing from the direction of the kitchen. "I'll admit I wasn't certain if I should be expecting you to arrive through the front door or from downstairs, or indeed if you would be returning home at all tonight."

"Only briefly," said Bruce, handing Alfred his nondescript coat. "Where's Tim?"

"Downstairs," replied Alfred, following Bruce into the study. "Will Master Tim be accompanying you tonight?"

"Most likely," replied Bruce, turning the hands on the grandfather clock. He sensed Alfred frowning behind him, though the butler didn't say anything. "Alfred, he's got to cut his teeth sometime," said Bruce, pausing before opening the door. "He's trained with me for months. He's been ready for weeks."

"That may be, sir," said Alfred. "That may be."

Bruce sighed inwardly and opened the entrance to the Batcave, choosing to ignore Alfred's concerns for the time being. Alfred had never wholly approved when Batman first took Dick out as Robin, though with time he had come to accept it, and even support it. He had had similar reservations when Jason came along, but again accepted Bruce's decision on the matter. But after Jason…Alfred had a difficult time understanding how Bruce could allow another young person take up the mantle of Robin. But what Alfred didn't understand was that the decision wasn't theirs to make.

When he first became Batman, his goal had been to strike fear into the hearts of criminals, to intimidate and threaten; what he hadn't expected was to inspire. Before he knew it, what had begun as a solitary crusade had become an effort of teamwork, uniting him with heroes across the country and the globe through the Justice League. It shouldn't have surprised him, or other members of the League, when young people began to emulate them and take on mantles of their own. Robin had been the first, and at the time there had been severe backlash from many members of the League—how could he endanger a child like that? A boy who was just nine years old? But the choice was never truly his—Dick had _wanted_ to be Robin, had _needed_ it, and nothing Batman could have done or said would have dissuaded him. It was a desire he understood all too well, even if his fellow Leaguers couldn't.

And then, perhaps in a similar way to how Batman inadvertently inspired other heroes, Robin somehow inspired other youths. Suddenly there was a Kid Flash, and Batman found himself an unlikely ally in Flash about whether or not it was moral to send children into the field. _How could he stop the kid?_ Barry had asked him, shortly after Wally had replicated the experiment and gained his powers. There were few things as strong as the determination of a teenager. Better to take him on and train him than let him out there on his own, unexperienced and unprepared.

Soon Green Arrow also found himself with a young protégé. _How could he possibly stop him?_ Ollie had asked. Better to give him a roof over his head, keep him from falling in with the wrong crowd or getting into a fight he couldn't win. It was safer this way, wasn't it? Better to train him to become a hero than let him get killed trying to become one on his own, right?

Perhaps he was at fault for putting them in danger; they were young, impressionable, and swept up in the idea of helping make the world a better place. But Batman had learned, if they had the strength of will to begin fighting, to complete the grueling months of training and sleepless nights, then it would be foolish to think they lacked the strength of will to continue fighting just because adult told them 'no.'

He had learned that the hard way with Dick, once. And again with Barbara.*

In truth, Batman had large reservations about having a new Robin. Dire predictions that his teammates had made years earlier had finally come to fruition, but everyone was too heartbroken to even think of uttering "I told you so." And perhaps now, with so many other young heroes having proved their worth, mettle, and determination, the rest of the League understood why he had allowed Dick to become Robin all those years ago. But Jason's death…he couldn't even talk about it. It was a raw wound that he couldn't bear to treat, or at times even acknowledge. He had never exceled at processing emotional trauma, never would. So when Tim had arrived, nervous and intimidated yet completely certain that Batman needed a Robin, and that that Robin could be him, he had initially wanted to reject him, send him away and let the mantle of Robin rest with Jason. But Tim was persistent, and in the end, he was right. Perhaps he did need someone to temper his darkness, his grief…but more than that, how could he stop him?

It wasn't his choice to make.

As he had expected, the Batcave seemed largely unaffected by the Blackout; the lights shone down brightly on the computer bay, the screens illuminated and filled with rapidly scrolling lines of code. Tim was sitting in Batman's chair in front of the monitors, in his uniform but with no mask, typing madly at the keyboard, the code from the screens emblazing stripes across his face. Without saying anything, Bruce walked up behind the boy while Alfred deposited the plain coat Bruce had handed him in a wardrobe filled with disguises. Tim was so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn't hear Bruce behind him, even as he leaned in closer to examine the lines of code streaming past on the screens. As far as Bruce could tell, Tim was attempting to hack something, but he had to admit that the speed and skill that Tim was using right now were beyond even him. Bruce was no stranger to hacking himself, but Dick was a prodigy, and under his tutelage, Tim had surpassed Bruce's skills weeks ago.

"C'mon," Tim muttered under his breath, his fingers flashing across the keyboard. "C'mon, just a little…aww, no!" His typing became even more furious than it had before, a frown creasing his brow under the reflected lines of streaming code. "No, nonono!" he said, almost yelling this time, and shoved the keyboard away from himself. "Dammit!"

"Language," said Bruce mildly from behind Tim. To his credit, Tim's jump of surprise was slight enough that most people who weren't bat-trained wouldn't have noticed it. "What's all this?" asked Bruce. Tim turned around to face him, looking slightly guilty.

"Well…umm, I was trying to hack…something?"

"Care to elaborate?" asked Bruce.

"Right," said Tim, unconsciously sitting a little straighter. "After I realized that all communications were down in addition to the power going out, I knew that it had to be intentional, so I ran a full diagnostic on everything I could. Systems in the Batcave are working reasonably well, but I couldn't get online. A local power outage, even a local internet outage shouldn't affect the Batcave…we don't exactly rely on the usual service providers. Then I figured out the issue isn't the Batcave at all—our systems are working perfectly. I couldn't access the internet because the internet wasn't accessible—almost like it wasn't even _there_." Bruce nodded. The information wasn't new to him, but he was still impressed that his young protégé had managed to deduce all that from within the Batcave and without any external aide.

"There are only a few ways to cause a total internet collapse," continued Tim. "The most likely scenarios are actually accidental—there could be some finger trouble that causes a cascading failure, or nodes could overload…but this was clearly on purpose. The thing is," said Tim, turning back to the computer screens, "the internet is full of vulnerabilities that someone could easily take advantage of to cause this, it just doesn't make any sense to do it, which is why nobody has before. Taking out the internet doesn't benefit _anyone_."

"But clearly, someone has done it now," prodded Bruce.

"Right," said Tim, refocusing. "So if someone wanted to cause an internet collapse, it would make the most sense to release some kind of malware."

"A virus?"

"More like a worm. With that, you could initiate a cascade, corrupting every routing table or domain name server, or even disable every router on the planet."

"I see," said Bruce, fascinated. He hadn't realized Tim had excelled so far when it came to technology. "And what you were just doing…?"

"I hacked in and was trying to trace the worm back to its source to find a location…I hope that was okay?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow, amused. "Did you find one?"

"No," said Tim, turning away again and hunching over the keyboard, the frustration clear in his voice. "I didn't even figure out what exactly the worm is doing, just that it's there. The code—it's too complex for me. Whoever the other hacker is…I'm not on their level."

"Did you encounter the other hacker?" asked Bruce, examining the code. Tim wasn't exaggerating; it was incredibly intricate.

"No," said Tim. "No sign of them."

"And you covered your tracks?"

Tim actually looked mildly offended. "That's the first thing Nightwing taught me how to do," he said.

"So they won't be able to trace you back here?"

"No!"

"Good work," he said, turning away from the screen. Tim looked surprised.

"So…you're not mad?" he asked, hesitatingly.

"You did good detective work here. We now know there's a malicious worm that caused the internet failure, which is more than we knew before," said Bruce. "Why would I be angry with you?"

"Because I used the Batcomputer without your permission, and risked opening us up to a malicious hacker and…you know, I'm gonna stop talking."

In spite of himself, Bruce found he was amused, though he didn't allow the sentiment to show on his face. Despite Tim's assuredness that Batman needed a Robin, he had a troubling tendency to underestimate his own capabilities. He consistently showed impressive initiative, but lacked the self-confidence to go with it. Bruce suspected that it stemmed from Tim feeling the need to fill the shoes of both Robins before him. Though it had been several months since Tim began training as Robin and a few weeks since his first time in the field with Batman, Tim was still cautious about overstepping any boundaries with his mentor, which was amusingly in direct contrast to his predecessors, who had both made it something of a pastime to ignore express commands.

Bruce walked over to the changing area and began putting on his uniform. "The code," he said to Tim, who was still perched in front of the Batcomputer scrutinizing the screens, "do you think you learned enough about it to try again?"

Tim paused and considered for a moment. "I figured out some key information when I went in the first time, but in order to do it I tipped my hand. Whoever that hacker is, they're crazy good. If they don't already know, they'll figure out pretty quickly that somebody was poking around in their code. Whenever we go in a second time, odds are they'll be ready for us." Tim sighed, glaring at the screens. "And I'm just not good enough to take them down one-on-one."

Bruce walked back across the cave, now in uniform, but with the cowl still pulled back. "Could Barbara do it?" he asked.

"Maybe," said Tim doubtfully, "but honestly, Bruce? I think we only have one shot to do this. And I think we need our best hacker to take it. "

"Dick," said Bruce, pursing his lips. Dick, who was nowhere to be seen.

Tim nodded.

Before Tim could say anything else, they were interrupted by a gust of wind and suddenly the Flash was in front of them. Tim's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden appearance, but Bruce hardly reacted. He'd been expecting Flash to drop in sometime around now, anyways.

"Hey, Batman," he said, leaning his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

"I believe some refreshments are in order," remarked Alfred. "And perhaps some nourishment as well."

"Alfred, you are amazing," said Flash, straightening up and wiping some sweat from above his lip.

"No trouble, Mr. Allen," said Alfred, smiling a little as he ascended the staircase toward the kitchen.

"What do you have to report?" asked Bruce.

"I've contacted nearly everyone in the League," said Barry, drawing back his mask and mussing a hand through his hair. "Everyone except for Doctor Fate, Aquaman, Black Canary, and Green Arrow—as far as I can tell, Aquaman's somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, Doctor Fate's not in any of his usual haunts, and I haven't made it over to Star City yet. I wanted to check in with you before heading over that way." Bruce nodded, and Barry went on. "I dispatched our flyers to airports like you told me to," he said, detailing which Leaguers were in which parts of the world, "and I also checked in on Captain Atom. He's got a situation in Rhelasia."

"What kind of situation?" asked Bruce.

"A bad one," said Barry, summarizing the situation with the nuclear reactors.

Bruce nodded. "Did you dispatch the Atlantean Team members?"

"Aquagirl and Tempest are en route to Rhelasia now with the Supercycle, and they should be more than enough to assist Captain Atom in cooling down the reactors. But that's not even half of it," said Barry waving his hand impatiently. "Before I even talked to Captain Atom, I checked in with our other League members. Nobody had anything unexpected to report except Superman. Said he couldn't put his finger on it, but something felt 'off.'"

"Off? In what way?" asked Bruce as Alfred reappeared with a tray full of sandwiches and a few bottles of water.

Barry shrugged as he grabbed one of the sandwiches absently. "I know, right? How vague can you get?" His eyes widened as he took a bite of the sandwich. "Alfred, these are amazing," he said after he swallowed and the butler smiled appreciatively. Bruce cleared his throat, irritated. "Right," said Barry, refocusing. "He said it was almost like a sensation, or a noise. And he was really short with me," said Barry crossly, gesturing with the sandwich. "I mean, practically _rude_. And then he just flew off—didn't even get to fully brief him."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, suspicious. It was certainly out of character for Clark, but they had yet to get to the point. "How does this relate to your visit to the Cave?" he asked.

"Superboy," murmured Tim from where he was still seated at the computer, his eyes wide in understanding.

"Exactly," said Barry, pointing his hand with the sandwich still in it towards Tim. "Same symptoms. And not only him—Wolf and Zatanna too."

"Zatanna?" interrupted Bruce, surprised for the first time this whole conversation. If Zatanna was suddenly affected by whatever was causing the Blackout, then that meant—

"Sorcery," he said at the same time as Tim said "Magic," identical notes of realization in their voices.

Barry looked back and forth between the two of them, chewing. "Okay, that was a little scary," he said, swallowing.

Barry summarized the rest of his conversation with the Team as he plowed through the remaining sandwiches. "So, long story short, while Aquagirl and Tempest help out Captain Atom, the rest of the Team is going to locate and investigate the source of the noise Superboy's picking up, and the magic that's affecting Zatanna."

"Belay that," said Bruce quickly. "Send in the rest of the Team, but I need Nightwing in Gotham. He's the best hacker we have, and we need him in order to get the internet up and running again."

Barry blinked at Bruce, momentarily surprised. "Nightwing wasn't at Mount Justice. Just Aqualad, Aquagirl, Tempest, Miss Martian, Superboy, and Zatanna." He frowned at Tim and Bruce, who both looked surprised. "I thought he and Batgirl were in Gotham, with you."

"Batgirl is accounted for," said Bruce quickly, "assisting the GCPD as a civilian."

"If I may," interrupted Alfred, coming forward, "but Master Dick mentioned he was heading to campus today. Perhaps he was there when the Blackout struck."

Bruce frowned. "Dick doesn't have class on Fridays."

"It was a meeting with his academic advisor, to discuss course options for next semester," said Alfred. "Though he did say he wouldn't be home for dinner—I was under the impression he was going to see his friends at Mt. Justice. Like you, I assumed he was there when he did not return here after his meeting."

"Clearly he never arrived," said Bruce. "Which means he's most likely still in Gotham."

Bruce grimaced as he remembered the gridlock blocking most major streets, the frozen light rails and the mass of pedestrians he'd seen while flying to and from the police station. The university was on the opposite side of Gotham from the manor, and without working comm-links, Dick would have no way of telling them his position. It would be nearly impossible for Dick to get home via car or public transit, and even if he used his jump lines to traverse Gotham by rooftop, it would still take a considerable amount of time for him to make it home. Gotham was a big city, and there was a reason they generally used the batmobile to get around it.

Bruce glanced to the side and noted Nightwing's uniform was still in the Batcave. Earlier, he hadn't thought much of it. Nightwing had multiple uniforms, and upon seeing this one still in the Batcave he had deduced that Dick was at the Mountain with the rest of his Team and had merely suited up there rather than here, as he often did. But now it seemed that Dick was somewhere in Gotham and out of uniform.

"He could still be in the city," said Tim, hesitating, "but realistically, he could also be anywhere else there's a Zeta-Tube. Just because he didn't Zeta to Mt. Justice doesn't mean he maybe didn't Zeta somewhere else."

"Alfred, did Dick say for certain he was planning on visiting Mt. Justice?" asked Bruce.

"Not as such," said Alfred, wearily. "Only that he hoped to catch up with some friends. He's seemed more tired than usual since the Zsasz case last month," he said, referring to a particularly long and brutal string of murders Batman and Nightwing had been investigating until they had caught the culprit, one Victor Zsasz, who now resided in Arkham. "He knew you weren't expecting him on patrol tonight. I think he was hoping for a bit of a night off."

Bruce sighed, frustrated. Dick was growing up, and although he still lived in the Manor, he and Alfred were trying to give him a little more independence, especially now that he was in college. It wasn't surprising that Alfred wouldn't know exactly where Dick was—he'd shown time and again that he was old enough to take care of himself, and Bruce tried to respect that, difficult as it was sometimes. And normally, this wouldn't be an issue—Dick never left home without his comm-link, and could always be contacted with it. Only no one had anticipated a world-wide radio failure. Even with all his contingency plans, Bruce hadn't been prepared for this. It was no wonder that it turned out magic was involved—it simply shouldn't be possible to block all radio signals world-wide under normal circumstances.

"I can zip out and see if I can find him," offered Flash, a slightly worried tone to his voice.

"No," said Bruce, cutting him off. "Dick can take care of himself, and we still need you for vital communications. The Team is already making considerable headway towards solving at least one aspect of the Blackout—we follow that lead for now. Send the Team in as planned, and continue liaising with myself and other League members. You still need to check in with Green Arrow and Black Canary. But first ask the Team if they knew what Dick's plans were tonight—that could tell us whether or not he's in Gotham now. If he is, he'll either try to make contact with us here or with Batgirl. Alfred, if he turns up here on his own, tell him taking out the malicious worm and the enemy hacker is his first priority."

"And where will you be, sir?" asked Alfred.

"There's little more Robin or I can do from here," replied Bruce, pulling up his cowl. "It's time to do some investigating of our own."

* * *

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

Conner, M'gann, and Zatanna were seated cross-legged on the floor of the Cave, the dim green glow of the emergency lighting casting eerie shadows across their faces, a map of the world spread on the floor in front of them. M'gann was seated between the other two, and Kaldur was standing just a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Don't tell me _you're_ nervous," said Zatanna, shifting slightly into a more comfortable position. "You're not the one about to bring your teammates into a mystic trance."

"It's not that," replied Conner. "You've both saved my butt enough times already to know I'll be in safe hands. But is this really the best option? This could be some kind of trap. And with all of psychically linked—"

"That is why I am standing by," said Kaldur. "If anything should go wrong, I will not be affected. I can ensure your physical safety, and will try to snap you out of the trance should anything go wrong."

"Though this isn't without risk," cautioned Zatanna. "We're going into this blind. We should all be prepared for anything."

"Besides," said M'gann, "we've already tried everything else we can think of. Your super hearing may be strong enough to pick up on this disturbance Conner, but it's just not strong enough to trace it. And none of Zatanna's spells have worked to either help you locate it or to determine what exactly is going on on her end of things. This is our best option."

"And our last option," said Kaldur. "Remember that so far, this is the only clue we have to ending this Blackout. If we cannot pursue this lead, we will be back at square one."

"You're right," breathed Conner. "Okay. I'm ready."

"Ready as I can be," said Zatanna, closing her eyes.

"Me too," said M'gann. She smiled once at Conner, taking his hand in one of her own, then took Zatanna's in her other. "Linking us now."

M'gann's eyes glowed green and Conner felt himself linked to his two teammates. It was different from how they were normally linked for communication; instead of merely hearing M'gann and Zatanna in his mind, he could feel them enter it.

" _Conner_ ," said M'gann through the mind-link, " _We've entered your mind psychically._ "

" _I know,_ " he responded. " _I can feel you both here._ "

" _And we can hear it too, now_ ," said Zatanna. " _You really weren't kidding, were you? It feels like a swarm of bees._ "

" _Focus on it, Conner,_ " said M'gann. " _Push everything else away._ "

He did, honing in on the noise, focusing all his intent on the faint hum in his ears until it was all he was hearing.

" _I'm ready to enter the trance now. Are you ready?_ " Zatanna's voice was clear in his mind, and he nodded. He distantly heard her voice in the real world as she invoked the incantation to enter the trance, and almost immediately he could feel his own body enter it as well. It was…strange. Almost like meditation, his whole sense of awareness narrowing to the sound in his ears, only now he could almost…feel it as well. There was something electric about it, a sensation rather than a noise.

" _This signal is full of mystic energy!_ " said Zatanna internally. " _And it's strong. They're somehow working in concert together._ "

" _I can feel it too,_ " said Conner. " _It's…it's overwhelming. It feels like it's under my skin. I don't know how much longer I can stand this._ "

" _You won't have to for much longer,_ " said M'gann. " _Zatanna, can you locate the source?_ "

" _Does Batman have gadgets? Now that I can lock onto the signal this strongly, it should be no problem._ "

" _Do it!_ " said Conner, straining. He didn't need to tell them he couldn't hold on to the connection much longer; he knew they could feel it too.

"Etacol retnecipe fo yrecros!" she cried in the real world. Conner felt something flare within the connection, something red and hot and angry.

" _Disconnect us_ now!" cried Zatanna, and the psychic link severed. Conner's eyes snapped open and he fell with a grunt to the floor. The fall took him by surprise; he hadn't realized they had been floating off the ground.

"Zatanna, are you okay?!" asked M'gann, turning immediately to their teammate. Zatanna was propped up on one arm, her other hand at her forehead.

"I think so," she said shakily.

"Did it work?" asked Conner. "Did we find a location?"

"It worked," said Kaldur, kneeling before the map on the floor. He rose and held a hand out to each of them in turn, helping them to their feet. "You are all unharmed?"

"Seems like it," said Conner, giving himself a once over.

"I broke the psychic link before anything could spread between us," replied M'gann.

"I'm fine," said Zatanna, "But something on the other end felt our disturbance when I located the source. I cut us off from the trance before it could follow it back to us, but I think we've tipped our hand. Whoever this sorcerer is, they know we're on to them."

Kaldur nodded. "Nevertheless, we were successful," he said, gesturing to the map. The other three Team members knelt in front of it. The Cave had emergency backup power, but not enough to generate the elaborate holograms they usually used in the mission room, and had used in the past when locating sorcery. Instead, they had resorted to using a paper map of the world M'gann had found in a box of her old school things, and a few pushpins. Before the mind-meld and trance, the map had been unmarked. Now, a single red thumbtack stuck upright in the map, speared straight through the heart of Al-Qawiya, Bialya.

"Gotcha," murmured Conner, and grinned.

* * *

It wasn't long before the Flash returned, his entrance sending a few loose papers and the map on the floor flying.

"Whoops, sorry 'bout that," said Flash, quickly nabbing the map out of the air. "What's your progress?"

"We have a location," said Kaldur, walking toward Flash.

"Al-Qawiya," said Conner, approaching behind Kaldur. "The capital of Bialya."

Flash's eyes widened a little bit behind his mask. "Also the hometown of Queen Bee!"

"Which means we may be dealing with not only her, but the rest of the Light as well," said M'gann, her face hard and serious. "And we still don't have a clear understanding of what this signal is even accomplishing, even if we know where it's coming from."

"How _did_ you figure out where it's coming from?" asked Flash.

Zatanna summarized how M'gann had linked her and Superboy psychically, allowing them to lock on to the signal using both of their powers.

Flash took in the group for a moment, clearly impressed. "You're telling me that you three managed to link all your powers together to figure that out?" he asked. "That…is some seriously advanced stuff, guys. I don't think anyone in the League has ever attempted something on that scale."

M'gann blushed slightly, and Zatanna glanced sidelong at Conner and M'gann, then quirked an eyebrow at Flash. "It was necessary," she said. "And we're used to sharing our thoughts with each other. This wasn't so much of a stretch," she shrugged.

"And more importantly, it worked," said Conner, folding his arms.

"Crazy well, actually," said Zatanna, picking up where she left off. "I couldn't detect the signal on my own before, but after tapping into it with Conner's hearing, it's clear that what he's been hearing is directly linked with sorcery. I'd go so far as to say it's actually being enhanced by it," she explained.

Flash frowned. "I just spoke with Batman," he said, running his thumb over his chin thoughtfully. "He's got a lead on the internet failure, so I doubt this signal is related to that. But we still don't have any explanation for how the power grid or radio signals have been affected. I don't see how a noise could possibly affect the power grid, even a magically enhanced one, but it _is_ possible that this is what's blocking radio signals."

"Like radio jamming?" asked Conner. "But I thought that normally could only affect a certain area at a time, and only a specific frequency."

"Normally, yes," responded Flash. "But perhaps with magical enhancement…"

"One could create a jamming signal to block _all_ frequencies globally," finished Kaldur.

"It's only a theory," shrugged Flash, "but whether or not this signal is behind the radios not working, I'd say it's definitely contributing to the Blackout somehow. Batman's onboard with the Team going in to investigate, but be careful. We won't have any of the usual ways of contacting you, and I may not be able to locate you once you're in."

"We understand that we won't be able to call for backup," said Kaldur, solemn. "But the world is at stake. We will take the risk."

"One more thing before you go," said Flash, holding up a hand. "Do any of you know if Nightwing was planning on visiting the Cave today?"

Conner blinked, and looked at his other teammates, all of whom seemed equally surprised. The question just seemed to come out of left field.

"…I haven't heard from him since yesterday," said M'gann. "He didn't mention coming over tonight."

"Though he does drop by unannounced sometimes," added Zatanna. "He doesn't always tell us when we'll see him next—he usually doesn't really know. He's a busy guy."

"We had no scheduled training today," added Kaldur. He paused, slightly worried. "Is there a reason you're asking?"

Flash sighed, rubbing his hand behind his head. "I mentioned Batman's got a lead on the internet angle. Turns out, it looks like there's a malicious worm that seems to have caused it, but neither Batman or Robin have been able to hack it. Nightwing's our best hacker, but nobody knows where he is."

"What do you mean, 'no one knows where he is?'" demanded Conner. "I thought you said you were tracking everyone down!"

"I'm working on it," glared Flash, raising his hand in defense. "He's only one of a handful I haven't accounted for yet. I was just hoping maybe he'd told one of you what he was planning on doing tonight. It would make finding him a hellavalot easier."

"Sorry," said M'gann, a note of worry in her voice. "He doesn't always tell us his plans."

He frowned at the floor, his hand dropping. "He told…somebody…that he was going to try and catch up with some friends tonight. We were trying to figure out if he meant you and just never made it before the Zetas went down, or if he went elsewhere. For all we know, he could be across the country in California catching up with Wally!" He shook his head, straightening up. "Don't worry about it though. I'll find him."

"He's probably just stuck in Gotham somewhere without a ride," said Zatanna, though not unkindly. "Knowing him, he's probably already halfway through solving this crisis on his own." Conner snorted appreciatively at that. It _did_ sound like something Nightwing would do.

"You're right," said Flash, smiling. "And you four have a mission."

"We'll take the Bioship to Bialya to investigate and shut down the signal," said Kaldur. "We'll report back here when we're done. If we're not back in 24 hours—"

"We'll send in backup if I don't see you by then. Good luck."

Kaldur nodded, and Flash was gone, leaving a gust of air in his wake.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I'm referencing both Batgirl: Year One and Robin: Year One, two excellent comics about the origins of two of my favorite characters. If you haven't read them/don't want to/can't, basically Batman tries to get both of them to stop being Batgirl/Robin respectively, with very limited success.
> 
> A/N: Okay! Thank you so much for reading that massive chapter and to those of you who've continued to follow along after all this time! I don't know why, but this chapter was really difficult to get out and I know it's far from perfect but I'm just glad it's out of my system and published. (And guess who's finally back next chapter..! Hint: begins with D and ends with ick.)
> 
> Okay, that's it from me for now! Next chapter is about done, so you shouldn't have to wait as long for it. In the meantime, go binge some YJ on Netflix, hang out with me on tumblr (if you want, srsly no pressure), and please, leave a comment! ;)


	10. Overwhelmed

 

**Chapter 10: Overwhelmed**

_He flies through the air, ready to grip the edge of the fire escape and flip safely to the ground. But before he can, it melts into the bar of a trapeze, and the alley walls stretch into the canopy of the big top. He reaches his arms, grasping towards the bar, but it’s too late, the bar is swinging away from him…_

_Below him, his parents are falling. Their arms stretch toward him, and he knows it won’t save them, that this time he’s falling too, but he reaches toward them anyways. His eyes lock with theirs, and he knows that the fear he sees there is reflected in his own face. When they hit, he can’t stop the cry that bursts from his throat._

_Because this time he’s falling too, and there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from joining his family where they’re lying, in a pool of blood in the center ring._

* * *

**Gotham City**  
**March 15, 02:38 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

Artemis paced around the side of Dick’s bed to peer behind the drawn curtains. Gotham’s skyline was still pitch dark; most of the buildings could only be seen by their inky silhouettes blotting out the stars.

Stars. She’d never seen so many, even when they were stranded in the Bialyan desert, far from the glare of any city lights. The sky was a wash of silver, the Milky Way streaking down the center of it. Artemis wasn’t usually sentimental about things like this, but if she were honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she’d never seen anything that was literally so breathtaking.

Okay, sure, the Blackout was terrible, but as inconvenient and disruptive and dangerous as it was, at least it had given Gotham the gift of the stars.

But she hoped it would just be for tonight. No matter how beautiful it was, they needed to get Gotham back into the light. Without power, Artemis had no doubt that things would begin to fall apart quickly, and she also knew that bad things happening in Gotham tended to be even worse than if they happened elsewhere. No doubt there’d be looting and riots if the lights didn’t get turned back on soon. Hell, there probably already _were_ looting and riots in the less savory areas of the city; she just couldn’t see them right now.

Artemis tore her gaze away from the sky and down toward Gotham’s streets. One consequence of the brilliant starlight was that Gotham actually seemed less dark somehow. Although everything was still dim, shadowy, and difficult to see, the softer starlight threw less dramatic shadows than Gotham’s usual streetlamps. She found if she looked for long enough, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness in a way they never could amid the sodium lights and neon that usually lit Gotham’s streets.

A flickering shadow caught Artemis’s eye, but despite her efforts, she couldn’t make it out. Was it just a harmless pedestrian? Or could it be Batgirl? Or an Owl assassin?

Artemis held very still and watched for another minute, but couldn’t see anything. Frustrated, she drew the curtain shut against the window again and turned back to look at Dick, still asleep in his bed. She had taken care to cover the window early on; the hospital was one of the few buildings in Gotham that still had electricity, thanks to an emergency generator, and it was lit up like a beacon in the night. A beacon that practically shouted “Dick Grayson is inside, come and get him!” A sniper had already tried to shoot Dick once earlier today; she was going to do her best not to let that happen again. So despite the stars, despite the shadows and what may or may not be lurking in them, Artemis kept the curtain closed.

She paced around to the other side of the room and rubbed her eyes, forcing herself to stay awake and alert. God, she was tired. It was almost three in the morning. She needed coffee.

Artemis glanced at Dick as he shifted in his sleep, the sheet that had been drawn over his torso slipping down the side of the bed. Artemis moved to draw the sheet back over him, but paused when he started talking in his sleep, mumbling strained words in a language Artemis didn’t recognize. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and he tossed his head slightly against the pillow. Artemis stared, momentarily at a loss. Should she wake him? Probably.

Gently, Artemis touched Dick’s uninjured shoulder. “Nightw—Dick.” She shook her head at her slip-up. “Dick, c’mon. Wake up.”

Dick’s eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly for a second, getting his bearings. Seeing Artemis watching him, he swallowed and looked away, and raised one slightly shaky hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Artemis turned and walked to a small table on the other side of his bed and poured him a glass of water from a pitcher, giving him a moment to brush aside the tears that had slipped past the corners of his eyes, and that she was pretending not to have seen. Silently, she handed him the water, which he gratefully accepted with his good arm. He avoided Artemis’s eyes and took a small sip of it.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked after a minute.

“M’fine,” he said, gaze fixed on the plastic cup. “Sorry.”

Artemis quirked her eyebrow and looked down at Dick. “Sorry? We all have nightmares. You shouldn’t apologize for something you can’t control.”

“I guess,” he said. He set the cup down on the table and ran a hand through his hair. It was damp with sweat, and he winced at how gross he felt. He needed a shower. “It’s just, I haven’t had that dream in a while. I was hoping I wouldn’t again…it’s not something I like reliving.”

Artemis inhaled and opened her mouth, and then quickly shut it again. “I didn’t know you spoke another language,” she said instead. “What was that?”

Dick looked up at her, surprised. “I was talking in my sleep?” he said. Artemis nodded. “Huh. Falling off that building must’ve really rattled me,” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to talk about it, it’s fine,” she said, glancing away. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Dick, slightly surprised to find he wanted to tell her. “I was probably speaking Romani. I actually don’t speak it very well, it’s been so long since I’ve had anyone who’s fluent in it to talk to, but sometimes, when I think about my parents, it just pops out.” He gave a small smile. “My dad and my uncle used to use it to talk to each other when they didn’t want anyone else to know what they were saying. I only picked up a little before he died…” Dick swallowed, his eyes flickering over the ceiling tiles.

Artemis was looking at him steadily, barely daring to breathe. Despite the fact that she’d learned Dick’s identity, she never thought he would actually tell her very much about his past. Her mom was the same way; on the rare occasions that Paula Crock brought up something from her past, Artemis would sit silently, listening intently to what her mother revealed and filing it away for later thought. If she said anything, brought any attention to the fact that her mother was speaking about the past, then her mom would clam up and move on to the present. All of Artemis’s instincts were telling her that Dick would react similarly, so she stayed quiet.

“My mom used to call me her little Robin,” he said after a few moments. He was leaning back on his pillows, looking at the ceiling, but it was clear he was seeing something else in his mind’s eye. “Because she said I reminded her of a robin, when I was flying on the trapeze. And then they died…” he said, his voice dropping. “They fell…and after…you would think I’d be afraid of flying. But I never was. I still love it. But one thing that haunts me, that I’ll always fear, is dying like them. Of falling. And you know,” he said, with a small laugh, “I’d never fallen before. Either I never let it happen, or someone was there to catch me.”

Artemis stood quietly for a few moments, absorbing his words. After a minute, Dick blinked and rolled his head to the side, looking at Artemis. He stared at her for a moment and narrowed his eyes, as though he were trying to decide if she were really there. “Did…did I really just say all of that?” he asked after a moment.

Artemis nodded. “Oh,” he said, and then looked down at his arm where the IV drip was inserted, and traced the tubing with his eyes back to the IV bag that was hanging next to him. “Am I on pain meds?” he asked, looking back to Artemis. She nodded again. “Heh,” he said, and leaned back and closed his eyes. “They always make me chatty. Alfred always says he can’t get me to shut up after he patches me up. I usually don’t remember too well though…hey, where’s Barbara?” Dick asked suddenly, opening his eyes and looking around. “Wasn’t she here?”

Artemis couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden change of topic, forgetting to ask who Alfred was. “Yes, Barbara was here. But she left a little while ago.”

“Why?” asked Dick. “Where’d she go?”

“Out,” said Artemis, smirking. “Some of us have got better things to do than keep an eye on your sorry butt.”

“Oh,” said Dick, looking disappointed.

Artemis laughed, he looked so miserable. “I’m kidding! She’s out hunting down any stray Owls that might be looking for you.” Artemis glanced uneasily toward the drawn curtain, wondering, not for the first time that night, where exactly Barbara was and if she was okay. It had been over an hour since she’d left.

“By herself?” Dick asked, frowning. “Artemis, we could barely handle five of them together—”

“Hey, Batgirl can take care of herself,” said Artemis, pushing aside her own doubts. “And you’re forgetting that we _successfully_ took out five Owls, without costumes, weapons, or gadgets, and with you not even using most of your combat skills. She’ll be fine.”

Dick looked at her skeptically. “Do I need to point out that you’re not mentioning that I’m sitting in the hospital with a _gunshot wound_ —”

“No,” interrupted Artemis, glaring at him. “So _don’t_.”

Just then, the door to the room burst open and Artemis instinctively jumped and spun around into a ready position. She relaxed when she saw it was only the nurse from earlier, who thankfully was staring down at a chart and didn’t notice Artemis’s reaction. Artemis had always hated that about doctors, the way they would barge into a room and start talking all at once without barely knocking. The nurse propped the door open and strode over to Dick’s bed, still consulting the chart.

“Good, you’re awake!” said the nurse, who was a petite African American woman. “We were going to have to wake you up in a few minutes anyway, considering your concussion. Let’s take a look.” She went through the same tests that Dr. Lawrence had done earlier, checking his pupils and asking him basic questions. Artemis rolled her eyes as Dick chatted away with the nurse, even flirting with her a little. She wasn’t sure if this was the way Dick Grayson always acted, or if he was still reacting to his medication, but either way, it was a bit gag-inducing. Okay, so he wasn’t nearly as bad as Wally had used to be, but it was still a bit tedious to listen to. At least the nurse wasn’t falling for it; she laughed good-naturedly along with Dick, but kept things professional.

“Alright, Mr. Grayson, let’s take a look at those sutures,” she said and drew the hospital curtain around the bed for some privacy. Artemis sighed and walked through the doorway to wait just outside the room. There were two police officers standing on either side of the door keeping watch, and Artemis had to admit that they looked a lot more alert than she felt right now. She supposed the fight earlier and the adrenaline-fueled flight through Gotham while carrying 180 pounds of Dick Grayson had taken more out of her than she’d thought at first. She rubbed her eyes and suppressed a yawn.

“Miss Crock,” said a voice down the hall. Artemis turned and saw Detective Buckley striding toward her, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his overcoat billowing out behind him. Artemis groaned inwardly. She could bet, whatever it was that he wanted, she was not in the mood to deal with right now. “Can I have a word with you?” he asked, motioning with his head toward the other end of the hall. Artemis glanced back toward Dick’s room. She didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone at all, even if there were two police officers outside the door.

“We can talk here,” she said firmly, stepping just to the side of the door.

Buckley glanced at the officers and back to her, a frown firmly in place on his forehead. “I have some more questions for you about tonight. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to discuss this someplace more private?”

“Positive,” growled Artemis. Whatever Buckley was after, he already had his hackles up. Damned if Artemis was going to give him _any_ ground.

“Suit yourself,” he said shrugging. “I’ll cut to the chase. I know you’re lying. You and Grayson were _not_ at a coffee shop reminiscing about old times. I took the liberty of canvasing the area the incident took place at. We found the alleyway where the shooting happened, just like you and Grayson described, complete with bloodstains. But you know what we didn’t find? Coffee shops. There aren’t any within a two-mile radius of that alleyway. So I would like to know, what exactly _were_ you doing together today?”

Artemis had to admit, despite her annoyance, that this guy was good. She hadn’t actually expected any of the Gotham PD to follow up on her story so closely, and certainly not so quickly. She guessed she’d underestimated the level of importance the GCPD would place on a case involving the infamous Court of Owls and a member of Gotham’s elite. Though to be fair, she hadn’t actually known she was dealing with the Court of Owls when she’d come up with that cover story. Come to think of it, she hadn’t even heard of the Court of Owls until tonight; she’d totally lost track of Gotham news since moving to California. She should have realized her lack of knowledge would come around to bite her in the ass.

All these thoughts passed through Artemis’s brain in a second and she didn’t miss a beat with her reply. “I told you, detective, we got lost after the power went out. We wandered around for a while before those Owl freaks attacked us.”

“Right,” said Buckley, clearly not believing her. “You wandered for two miles directly into a deserted alleyway where the Court of Owls was waiting to ambush you.”

Artemis felt her face grow hot with anger and realized belatedly that she was, for all intents and purposes, being interrogated. “They were _not_ waiting for us!” she said hotly. “They had to have followed us. There’s no way they would have known we would end up there.” This part was the truth. There was no way the Owls could have been waiting for Dick in that alley. Even Dick had said they must have tailed him without him noticing.

“Okay,” said Buckley coolly, “so they followed the two of you. How did they know where you and Mr. Grayson were meeting in order to follow you from there?”

Artemis glared knives at Buckley. The truth was, she didn’t have a good answer for him because really, her story was so flimsy that it quickly fell apart under any close scrutiny. But she had to admit, he was thorough. Wasn’t that just her luck? She had to end up with a Gotham detective who was actually good at his job.

“I don’t know,” she ground out. “Maybe they followed him from home.”

“And waited so long to go for the kill?” asked Buckley. “Possible, but why wait all day? Here’s another idea. Maybe there was no coffee get-together, and you led the Owls straight to Mr. Grayson. Or maybe there was, and led Grayson straight to them.”

“That is _not_ what happened,” said Artemis, unable to contain herself.

 “Then what _did_ happen?” demanded Buckley, his voice rising. He took a step towards her, but Artemis held her ground and glared right back at him. “How did the Court of Owls know where to find Richard Grayson tonight?” he demanded.

“Hey! Buckley! Calm down,” said Detective Hernandez, coming around the corner, two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. “What is going on?”

“Her story doesn’t add up,” said Buckley. “I’m getting some answers.”

“Really, Buckley, at three in the morning?” said Hernandez. “She’s clearly exhausted. You’re not going to get a straight answer out of her now no matter what.” Buckley looked like he was going to argue, but Hernandez cut him off. “Go take a walk and calm down,” she said. He glared at Hernandez but complied, striding down the corridor and around the corner.

Artemis breathed in and out slowly, forcing herself to calm down. This was exactly the sort of complication that she _didn’t_ need tonight. She already had to worry about Dick’s injuries, Barbara’s absence, the Owl assassins that were probably out there _somewhere_ , not to mention the freaking _blackout_ affecting all of Gotham. She didn’t have time to worry about nosy police officers on top of all that.

“Here,” said Hernandez, handing her one of the cups of coffee. “I was bringing this for Buckley, but you look like you need it more. It’s just some crappy instant stuff from the staff breakroom, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thanks,” said Artemis, accepting the coffee and taking a sip. She closed her eyes and sighed. It might be shitty coffee, but right now, it was exactly what she needed.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here,” said Hernandez reasonably. “It’s late. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? We’ve got things covered here. And you probably want to see your family, make sure they’re okay.”

Artemis shook her head and took another sip of coffee. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “I’ll stay here for now.”

“Artemis…are you and Richard a couple?” asked Hernandez. “I’d understand why you didn’t tell us before, the tabloids can be vicious in this town.”

Artemis stared at her, her mind actually completely blank for a second.

Then she burst out laughing. “Me…and Dick? Together?” she laughed. “That’s hilarious. No,” she said, her giggles subsiding. “No, no and _no_.”

Hernandez was momentarily taken aback by Artemis’s laughter, but recovered quickly enough. “I apologize for the wrong assumption,” she remarked, taking a sip of her own coffee, “but you’ll have to forgive me. Most people don’t hold vigils at people’s bedsides if they’re not family or partners.”

“I wasn’t keeping _vigil_ ,” said Artemis, scoffing. “I was—” Artemis cut herself off. She couldn’t really say she was protecting him, either, even if it was the truth. “…keeping him company,” she continued, realizing that if she didn’t supply an answer it would be suspicious. “His family isn’t here, and they probably don’t even know he’s hurt. I thought he could use a friend.”

“Right,” said Hernandez, fiddling with her Styrofoam cup. “So, you’re good friends then?”

Artemis paused, coffee cup halfway toward her mouth. Was she still being interrogated? It was beginning to feel that way. Mentally, she kicked herself for not seeing it sooner.

“I only ask because I couldn’t help but notice Barbara Gordon visiting earlier. We all know Barbara down at the precinct. He father is a good man, and an excellent officer. He also talks about his daughter a lot, about her activities and her friends. So I know it’s the truth when I say that Barbara Gordon and Richard Grayson are best friends. Practically attached at the hip. And if she left after only a half hour, surely you can leave too? I just find it unusual that someone Barbara’s never mentioned is apparently closer with Richard than she is.”

Artemis stared at Hernandez for a moment. They were dragging Barbara into this now? But it was true, Artemis and Barbara hadn’t been close friends in high school. In fact they’d barely come into contact with one another at first. Batgirl hadn’t joined the Team until after she’d turned eighteen and Artemis had already graduated from Gotham Academy (the Justice League’s rule of requiring parental approval for all the Team members who were minors was a bit of a hurdle for her, since she still hadn’t told her dad about her extracurricular activities). So Artemis didn’t know that Barbara Gordon and Batgirl were one and the same until Barbara joined the Team, and by that time she was already living in California.

 “Are you…are you two good-cop-bad-copping me?” Artemis said to Hernandez. “Because I am so _not_ in the mood for that right now.” Artemis tossed her empty Styrofoam cup in a nearby trash can and turned away from Hernandez.

“Artemis, wait!” said Hernandez, and despite her annoyance, Artemis paused. They might be barking up the wrong tree, but they were good cops and were actually trying to help Dick. She should at least _try_ not to get on their bad sides. “Look, I’m sorry if Buckley came on a bit strong—he’s like that. But what he said is right. Your story doesn’t add up and we’re just trying to figure out why.”

“Do you think I led the Owls to Dick?” asked Artemis stiffly.

“My opinion doesn’t matter,” said Hernandez. “But that being said, I don’t think someone who tried to have him killed would work so hard to get him to a hospital and keep watch by his bedside all night.”

Artemis crossed her arms and shifted her stance. “Look, I don’t know what you and your partner are trying to get me to say, but it won’t work. I’m not here to hurt Dick or to betray him, and I never will.”

“Artemis, we’re not trying to get you to say anything other than the truth,” said Hernandez. “And I think you haven’t told us that yet.”

“No, I _did_ already tell you,” said Artemis firmly. “You can ask Dick, everything he says matches my story.”

Hernandez stared hard at her. “I don’t know why he’s protecting you. And I don’t know what you two are hiding. But I’d like to remind you that you’re interfering with an attempted murder investigation involving one of the most dangerous criminal groups in Gotham. And as much as I’d like to think that you had nothing to do with it, you’re currently one of our prime suspects, whether you like it or not. The consequences won’t be as severe if you cooperate with us now—”

“Look, am I under arrest or anything? No? Then you can leave me alone,” said Artemis, turning away toward Dick’s room. She could see Buckley coming back down along the hall, and she _really_ didn’t want to deal with him again too. “And quit wasting your time with me,” she added to Hernandez, “There are actual killers out there—”

Artemis was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering and a female’s surprised shriek from Dick’s room. Without hesitation, Artemis sprinted into the room, Hernandez and Buckley hot on her heels, their guns drawn. The two officers stationed outside the door had already run inside. Hurtling around the threshold, Artemis paused for the briefest of moments to absorb what she saw: one of the officers was lying on the floor bleeding, a blade protruding from his chest. Artemis couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive. The second officer fired off two rounds before she too went down, a knife in her shoulder. Batgirl was lying below the window, which was now no more than a jagged hole. It seemed as though she had been thrown bodily through it.

A female Owl assassin was perched on the sill of the window, framed by the torn and billowing window curtain and jagged shards of glass, two throwing knives ready in her hand.

Artemis flew forward. She had no weapon, no armor, and no plan, but she knew she had to stop this from happening. Time seemed to slow and each lunging step she took toward the Owl felt like an eternity, despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins, despite the speed she knew she was actually moving at. She was hyper aware of every detail of the room: Buckley and Hernandez’s shouts from the threshold, the sound of the safeties on their guns being released. Batgirl struggling to her feet, pieces of glass showering off of her cape as she reached for a batarang at her belt. And even as Artemis drew closer to the Owl she could see that she would be too slow, they all would be too slow. In one swift motion, the Owl threw the knives and they sliced through the privacy curtain still draped around Dick’s hospital bed, and Artemis heard them sink into something soft and yielding, a pair of deadly twins.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: …I’m evil, I know. *Cackles*
> 
> Also, do yourselves a favor and google “stars without light pollution.” Do it. You won’t regret it.
> 
> RE: Dick and painkillers—some side effects of opioid painkillers include (but are not limited to) sleepiness, strange or vivid dreams, confusion, and influencing mood and behavior, all of which play into Dick's behavior in this chapter.
> 
> I’m going to try and get another chapter up within 1-2 weeks. 
> 
> Please review!!
> 
>  


	11. Cornered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Pi Day everyone! I hope you treat yourself to some pie today, because I certainly am. Also, it's what Wally would do. Speaking of our favorite speedster, I know I told a few of you that he'd be making an appearance in this chapter. Well, it looks like I lied. Originally, he was going to be in chapter 11 and what you are about to read was going to be chapter 12, but a lot of you were...shall we say, a little upset with me after the ending of the last chapter. So I decided to be kinder, and go ahead and post this now. I also decided that doing it this way flowed a little better narratively. But no fear! Wally will make an appearance next chapter (unless I change my mind again. I reserve that right!)
> 
> Anyways, here is the next chapter, posted on March 14, which is both Pi Day and the date this fic begins on (and the day the Blackout strikes!) Yay for timeliness! And now on with the fic.

**Chapter 11: Cornered**

**Gotham City**  
**March 15, 01:56 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

**One hour ago**

Holding tight to her grapple line, Batgirl swung toward one of the stone turrets of the building across the street from the hospital and landed lightly in a crouch, scanning the building opposite. Over the past half hour, she'd climbed to the roof of the hospital and observed at least six Owl assassins staking out the building from various angles, and now she was conducting a quiet circuit of the hospital. In addition to the six she'd already spotted, she counted at least six more lurking in the shadows near the hospital's entrances. They were all armed with a combination of guns, knives, and other weapons that seemed to reflect the owner's personal taste.

Twelve bad guys. Batgirl wasn't a huge fan of those odds, but she had the advantage of stealth and surprise. Plus, all of the Owls were spread out; if she was careful, she could take them out, one at a time, and they'd be none the wiser.

Twelve though. Twelve! Even if she managed to sneak up on some of them, there were still enough that she might not be able to get them all before they went in for the kill. She also didn't like that they had clearly managed to regroup; it was likely that the Owls outside the hospital now weren't any of the same who had attacked earlier that evening. Artemis and Dick had barely managed to fight off five of them when they were healthy and alert; even though Batgirl was there to help now, Artemis was clearly exhausted from the earlier fight and lack of sleep, even if she would never admit it, and not to mention that Dick was currently passed out from a combination of his injuries, exhaustion, and pain killers. There was nowhere to retreat to if shit really hit the fan. Even if they defeated all the Owls outside the hospital now, more would come. They were sitting ducks until they could get Dick out of there.

So, the odds weren't in their favor. Actually, the odds were pretty terrible, to be honest. But there was no way Batgirl was going to let anything happen to another member of her team without one hell of a fight.

Batgirl leaped from the building to land silently on the ground, her cape pooling around her in the darkness. Moving from shadow to shadow with all the skill of a bat, she snuck up behind one of the would-be attackers and made short work of silently incapacitating him. _One down_ , she thought as she dragged his unconscious body into the shadows, shielding him from view.

Only eleven more to go.

* * *

 

**Gotham City**  
**March 15, 02:56 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

**Ten minutes ago**

"Good, you're awake!" Dick turned away from Artemis to see a petite African American woman wearing dark blue scrubs walking toward him as she consulted a clipboard. "We were going to have to wake you up in a few minutes anyway, considering your concussion," she continued.

"Umm, right," said Dick. Was that the same nurse that was here before? He couldn't remember. He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to place her. He normally didn't have this much trouble with faces.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up from the chart. "My name is Linda Hunt, the registered nurse on duty. I'm on shift until seven this morning, so I'll be coordinating your care until then. How are you feeling, Mr. Grayson?" she asked.

"Call me Dick," he said. "All my friends call me Dick."

"Alright then, how are you feeling, Dick?" she smiled, checking his various monitors against his chart.

"Pretty good, all things considered," he said, smiling back at her. "Linda Hunt…I'm gonna guess you're tired of people telling you that you have the same name as the actress?"

"People do like to point it out to me," she remarked lightly.

"Yeah, but you're a lot prettier than she is," said Dick. He turned in surprise as Artemis snorted loudly from where she was standing near the threshold. Did he say that part out loud? Oops.

"Well, I'm certainly taller," replied Linda, chuckling.

"I'm sorry," said Dick, embarrassed. "I don't normally do that—actually, I've been saying a lot of stuff I normally wouldn't tonight," he muttered.

"That's a very normal reaction to the medication you're on," said Linda, once again consulting his chart. "Though if you're not in any immediate pain, we might consider lowering the dosage." She made a note, then hooked his chart at the foot of his bed and reached into her breast pocket for a small pen light. "Let's check your eyes again," she said, shining the flashlight into Dick's pupils.

"So," began Dick as he followed her finger back and forth with his eyes. "Do you know what's going on with the power and everything?" Amid all the distraction of being chased down by the Owls, his hospitalization, and discovering that Artemis had unmasked him, he'd lost track of the original situation that got them into this mess. Neither Artemis or Barbara had mentioned much about the Blackout since he'd woken up, but despite the fact that he was sitting in what appeared to be a fully-powered hospital, he had the distinct feeling it wasn't over yet. For one, he'd noticed that none of the police officers he'd encountered tonight were using either their phones or radios. Second of all, if the Blackout was actually over and the phones were working, Bruce would have been here. His absence was answer enough for Dick to know the Blackout was far from over.

"Not a clue," replied Linda. "We're just lucky Gotham General has backup power. Though I can tell you I'm not looking forward to my commute in the morning. Don't know how I'm going to get home if the train's not running."

"Maybe…don't," said Dick cautiously. "People in this city sometimes...they can get dangerous, especially when they're scared. Like now."

Linda raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't worry about me," she said, amused. "I'm Gotham born and raised. It takes a lot to scare me. Now let's take a look at those sutures." Linda reached for the privacy curtain, and Dick caught a glimpse of Artemis stepping through the open door to the hallway as Linda drew it closed around them.

Their conversation lapsed as Linda focused on removing the bandages over the stitches in his side. In the lull, Dick could hear voices drifting in from the hallway—it sounded like Artemis…and one of the detectives? And they were getting heated. _That_ couldn't be good. Dick sighed inwardly. This entire situation was spiraling way too fast for his liking, and he didn't like that Artemis was getting dragged down into it too.

The voices outside calmed somewhat, and he shifted his attention back to Linda, who, satisfied that his stitches were holding, was replacing the bandages over his wounded side. He had chosen to ignore how bad his injuries were before, but now it was beginning to sink in. While he'd had worse before, he'd never really had it this bad at a more inconvenient time. All other injuries aside, the broken arm alone meant he'd be out of commission for at least a few weeks. And who knew what was going on in the rest of Gotham. Where was Batman? Did he need his help right now? Dick was used to finding the answer to anything with just a few keystrokes to his wrist computer or a quick call on the comm. It was unbearably frustrating being stuck in a hospital and not knowing anything.

A small noise caught his attention. For a moment, Dick thought it was part of the sounds of Linda moving around, but as he listened more closely, he could tell it definitely wasn't. And it was coming from the wrong direction to be the people in the hallway either.

"Alright, you're all set for now Dick," said Linda, drawing the blanket back up over his torso. "The call button's just over here, and don't hesitate to call me if you need anything—"

"Shhh!" said Dick suddenly, grabbing Linda's wrist with his uninjured right arm and preventing her from drawing the privacy curtain back again.

"What—" started Linda, but before she could finish she was cut off by the sudden crash of breaking glass. Dick responded without thinking; Linda was standing on the side of the hospital bed opposite the window and closest to the door to the hallway, and before either of them could even blink he had rolled out of the bed and pulled her to the floor. She shrieked, whether in fear or surprise Dick wasn't sure. He heard shouts from the doorway—must have been the officers that had been stationed outside his door—and then the sickening sound of a blade sinking into flesh. Then the blast of a gun firing—twice—before a second blade found its mark.

"Go!" Dick mouthed to Linda, pushing her toward the door, but she shook her head fiercely. Then there were more people in the room—he heard Hernandez and Buckley's shouts, and then a familiar battle cry—Artemis—and below all of that, so quiet it was nearly indistinguishable, the soft _shing_ of two throwing knives flying towards their target.

* * *

 

**Gotham City**  
**March 15, 03:06 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

**Now**

Artemis heard the soft thunk of the knives sinking into something, and for the briefest of moments, time stops.

One police officer spread-eagled on the floor, a knife sunk hilt-deep into his chest, blood pooling around him. Another officer, crumpled near the threshold, one arm limp and useless at her side, the other weakly clutching the hilt of a knife sunk into the opposite shoulder.

Hernandez and Buckley, guns drawn, trench coats billowing behind them.

Batgirl, crouched a few feet from the window, glass glittering in the air as it falls from her cape, arm cocked backward and ready to throw a batarang, a red snarl on her face.

A female Owl, balanced on the sill, arm arcing downward from throwing two knives, head cocked to the side, listening for their impact.

A privacy curtain with two holes pierced in it, billowing gently in the slight breeze from the jagged window.

And then, just as quickly as it had frozen, everything came rushing back into place. Artemis surged forward, fists flying, and tackled the Owl in the window, wrestling her to the floor. They grappled for a few moments over a second pair of knives the Owl had drawn from her belt, but Artemis bent her wrist backward, forcing the Owl to drop them. Artemis kicked them away and they skidded across the linoleum, but the Owl used the distraction to knee Artemis in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. For a moment Artemis lost her grip on the Owl, but before she could reach for another knife, a batarang impaled itself in her forearm. The Owl hissed and Artemis lunged at her, pinning her to the floor. Artemis could hear shouting from behind her, but it sounded distant, as though it was coming from a very great distance, or through water.

The air stirred and Artemis looked up, only to see another two Owls at the window, both of them male. In that same instant, a gunshot blasted and hit the first one in the chest, knocking him backward into the darkness. Another shot rang out but missed the second Owl as he pounced toward Artemis, sending a fistful of knives flying over her head from one hand while he thrust downward with a dagger in the other. But before he could stab Artemis, a batarang lodged itself in his hand, the dagger clattering uselessly to the floor.

Thankful that Batgirl was covering her, Artemis punched the Owl she had pinned on the ground with as much force as she could muster, knocking her senseless, and in one fluid motion rolled to her feet and charged the second Owl. They exchanged a series of rapid blows, ducking each other with ease. One of the Owl's hands was injured from the batarang, which was an advantage for Artemis, but he was also armed, and she was not. Her awareness of the rest of the room receded into the background—she didn't pause to wonder where everyone else was or what they were doing—she was intently focused on the fight in front of her. All of her anger and frustration from earlier in the evening was at its boiling point and she was expressing it with every blow she dealt to the Owl in front of her. She didn't know where Dick was, if he was okay or not, and she couldn't think about it right now—only this fight, this enemy, because if she focused on the fact that Dick might be lying just a few feet behind her, those deadly knives sunk into his chest, she didn't know what she might do.

* * *

 

**Gotham City**  
**March 15, 03:06 EST**  
**Team Year Four**

**Now**

Buckley started when he heard the shriek and the sound of shattering glass, then immediately pulled out his sidearm and ran down the hall to the door of Grayson's room. He wasn't sure exactly what he would find when he got inside, but it wasn't this.

Buckley had read the case files on the Court of Owls. He'd read about the strange, ritualistic-like uniforms, their deadliness with weapons of any design, and most of all their cult-like devotion and obsessive determination to complete any task they set their organization toward. So when he saw the Owl assassin perched on the sill of the window, arm arcing downward, almost lazily, in the wake of two projectiles, face obscured by one of the strange, owl-like masks they favored and body wreathed in a cloak and multiple layers of intricate armor, he wasn't as surprised as he might have been. But what he did _not_ expect to see was Artemis Crock, eighteen-year-old civilian and current prime suspect in the Grayson case, charge the Owl and tackle her to the floor before he could even get his safety off. Beside him, Hernandez was shouting at the girl to get clear while trying to find an opening to take a shot at the Owl, but she wasn't listening; rather, she was wrestling the attacker to the ground with a level of skill that Buckley doubted either he or Hernandez could have brought to the situation.

Buckley had always had a knack for seeing the details. It's part of what made him a good detective. While part of his brain processed this new information about Artemis Crock, he took cover behind the open door and took in the rest of the room. Hernandez had taken cover behind the door to the bathroom and was trying to find a clear shot, but couldn't fire without risking hitting the Crock girl. On the other side of the room, the Batgirl was struggling to her feet; Buckley had read the reports on all of the bat-people in Gotham, but hadn't ever actually encountered any of them before, except for one memorable night when he'd caught a glimpse of the Batman himself disappearing into the shadows just as Buckley arrived at a crime scene. This one looked like she'd seen better days; she'd clearly come from the losing end of a fight with the Owls, and appeared to have been thrown _through_ the window. But she wasn't out of the fight yet; if the look on her face said anything, she was _pissed_ , and just as the Owl on the floor kneed Crock violently in the solar plexus, Batgirl threw the weapon she had in her hand, imbedding it into the Owl's arm before the assassin could reach for a new weapon.

Batgirl darted over to the bed, another weapon already in her hand. She thrust aside part of the privacy curtain, revealing both Grayson and a nurse huddled near the foot of the bed, apparently unhurt, the two knives the assassin had thrown earlier impaled harmlessly in the empty mattress.

"Are you hurt?" she asked the kid, not taking her eyes off the threat.

"No," he said. "Are you?"

Batgirl briefly flicked her eyes to the kid in a look that Buckley couldn't read. "You both need to get out of here," she said, ignoring his question.

But before any of them could move, two more Owls burst through the window, clutching an assortment of knives in their hands. With a clear target in front of her, Hernandez took the shot, knocking one of them back out of the window. In the same instant, the second Owl leaped down from the window ledge toward Crock, simultaneously avoiding Hernandez's second shot and sending three more throwing knives flying toward Grayson, who was visible now that the curtain was drawn back.

The kid moved so fast Buckley wasn't even sure if he'd seen it—if he'd blinked he surely would have missed it. In one quick motion, Grayson grabbed the medical chart from where it was hanging at the foot of the bed and ducked down behind it, the three thin knives thunking into it in quick succession. The nurse screamed again at the sound of their impact, and cautiously, Grayson peeked out from behind the clipboard. "Whoa," he breathed, catching sight of the still-quivering knives, half-imbedded in the particle board.

"Hernandez!" Buckley shouted, shaking off his shock. "Get the civilians out of the room, I'll cover you!"

"What about Artemis?" she called, still keeping a close eye on the blonde girl, who was now trading a series or rapid blows with the second Owl.

"I'll take care of her, just get Grayson and the nurse out!" he called, inching forward.

Buckley was growing surer with each passing second that this case wasn't adding up the way it should—but now wasn't the moment to get hung up on the details. Protect, subdue, and get Grayson somewhere secure. _Then_ he could figure out what the hell was going on here. Whatever this mess was, he was determined to get to the bottom of it—provided he, and everyone else in this room, didn't get killed first.

* * *

 

Batgirl hurled the batarang at the Owl, knocking the dagger he had been about to plunge into Artemis from his grasp, and whipped around to see Dick ducked behind a clipboard, the three knives still quivering in the particle board. Wide-eyed, they locked gazes for a half second, Batgirl's heart in her throat. That was close, far too close. They were in way over their heads.

"Linda," Dick said to the nurse, still holding the clipboard in front of him like a shield, "run for the door, and I'll follow behind you."

"Over my dead body am I leaving an injured patient behind in this room," the nurse responded fiercely. "I will help _you_ get to the door."

"Okay, we leave together," he amended under his breath, though he seemed impressed by the nurse's resolve.

Detective Hernandez ducked and ran towards them from across the room, crouching near Batgirl in front of Dick and the nurse. "Can you walk?" she asked Dick.

"Umm," he responded.

"No!" said the nurse, answering for him. "Your whole left side is a giant contusion, and you've got three cracked ribs and a gunshot wound!"

"Both of you, help him out of here," said Batgirl. "I'll help cover you." Nodding, Linda pulled Dick's right arm over her shoulders and got ready to stand up. Hernandez looked for a moment like she might argue, but just then, yet another pair of Owls appeared over the window ledge, a male and a female this time, armed to the teeth. "Go now!" Batgirl yelled, darting in front of the group. "Go!"

In the next instant, Batgirl took the room into account. In her peripheral vision, she could see Hernandez wrap an arm around Dick's other side and help him begin to stumble out of the room, but they were moving far too slowly. Dick had sustained serious injuries to his core, and as a result he could barely hold himself up right now. Artemis was still fighting her own Owl near the window, unable to help them fight off the newer two. Beside Batgirl, Detective Buckley fired a couple rounds at the two approaching Owls—he managed to down one of them, but was forced to duck behind a chair as the remaining Owl retaliated with her own weapons. As the Owl's knives sailed toward them, Batgirl flipped through the air and deflected the knives that were heading toward Dick, the blades glancing off the shock plates in her gauntlets, then landed in a crouch and threw the a handful of batarangs at the Owl in one swift motion. If she hadn't had to worry about Buckley and Artemis, she would have used one of her concussive batarangs and retreated, but as it was she had to rely on the regular kind.

Batgirl scattered a handful of smoke pellets behind her to mask Hernandez, Dick, and the nurse as they reached the threshold, then ducked into a backwards roll as the Owl aimed a new set of knives at her, the weapons thunking into the linoleum where she's been crouched a moment earlier. Batgirl cursed silently—her batarangs didn't seem to faze the Owl very much at all. Since all of her long-distance weapons were proving ineffective, her remaining options were either to move in for hand-to-hand combat or retreat.

But while Batgirl had been dodging the newest Owl, Artemis had nearly finished battling hers. Before Batgirl could decide whether or not to move in, Artemis delivered a series of quick blows to her own Owl, disarming him, and then hit him upside the jaw with the pommel of his own dagger so hard that Batgirl could hear his teeth crack from her side of the room. In the same motion, Artemis was on to the sole remaining Owl. Batgirl allowed herself the tiniest of smiles. Retired? Yeah, right.

Batgirl darted over to Detective Buckley, who was still crouched behind an upturned chair, gun trained on the Owl. "I counted twelve Owls outside before this all started," she said to him hurriedly. "I took out four of them before they caught on to me. Counting this one, we've seen five more of them here."

"That leaves three," grunted Buckley.

"That we know of," said Batgirl. "And they won't stop at this room—"

"Get out of here and help cover Grayson," interrupted Buckley. "I'll stay here and make sure this one gets taken out."

Batgirl nodded. She didn't like leaving anyone behind, but she didn't believe that this Owl would get past Detective Buckley and Artemis combined. She spared a quick glace toward Artemis, then ran for the door.

* * *

 

Dick grunted as they hauled him away from the room, then collapsed in a heap around the corner at the other end of the hall.

"This isn't working," said Hernandez, catching her breath and peering around the corner to see if they were being pursued. "We're not going to get far like this."

"Hang on," said Linda. The nurse ran into a room a few doors down the hall, and after a few moments emerged with a wheelchair. "We can use this," she said, pushing it over to where Dick was. "Help me get him into it."

To be honest, Dick wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea, but at the same time understood that they had very few options. He hated how helpless he felt right now—he hadn't quite realized until he tried to stand up just how battered his body really was right now.

He bit back a groan as Hernandez and Linda helped him off the floor and into the wheelchair, the movement pulling at the wound in his side. How many more Owls were out there? He still clutched the clipboard with the three knives protruding from it in his good hand, and he fully intended on using them if he had the opportunity. His first mistake in this long hellhole of a day had been not fighting as hard as he should have, but things were different now. Now it wasn't just Artemis who was in danger, Artemis who was perfectly capable of defending herself. Now it was police officers who were ill-prepared to fight expertly trained assassins, now it was Linda, a nurse who was sticking with him despite having every reason to run for the hills, now it was every patient and doctor in this whole hospital. Identities be damned—it wasn't a mistake he was going to make again tonight.

"Someone's coming," whispered Hernandez, looking up suddenly. She held a finger to her lips and, gun at the ready, peered around the corner. But she quickly relaxed, dodging around the corner to whoever was on the other side. After a moment she reappeared with Batgirl, the officer who had been stabbed in the shoulder supported between them.

"Nurse's station is this way," said Linda, taking in the officer's injury. "We can get help for her there."

"What about Officer Green?" asked Hernandez, referring to the other officer who'd been posted outside the door. "You need to go back for him."

"He didn't…" said Batgirl, wiping a trickle of blood from her lip as she caught her breath. "He didn't make it. He's gone," she said, meeting Hernandez's eye. The detective looked away, clenching her jaw in grief and anger.

It felt as though one of the Owl's knives had found its mark. Dick felt cold, cold spreading out from his heart and through his body. There was a man lying dead back there, all because of him. Because he had been sloppy and had gotten hurt and gotten his civilian identity mixed up in this. If he had just taken out the Talon when he'd had the chance—ended the fight in the alleyway without getting injured—he could have walked away from it and come back to solve the problem as Nightwing. Now he was stuck as Dick Grayson, stuck in this broken body, stuck with no way to protect any of these people. Sitting here endangering everyone with just his presence. All the Owls wanted was Richard Grayson—they didn't care about any of these other people.

"Get moving, head for the nurse's station!" said Hernandez to the group.

"No," said Dick forcefully. "They're after me, not any of you. I'll go back."

"I'm afraid that's not up to you," said Hernandez, pulling up the injured officer and heading down the hallway. "No one else is dying tonight under my watch."

Linda pushed Dick in the wheelchair, running after Hernandez, Batgirl bringing up the rear.

"Stop it," protested Dick, reaching to the side with his good arm to grab the handhold on the wheel. The chair swerved to the side as one wheel turned more slowly than the other, Linda stumbling behind it as it came to a halt.

Batgirl was there in an instant, fire flashing in her eyes as she forcibly removed his hand from the wheel. "So help me Grayson, I will handcuff you if you don't cooperate."

"Batgirl…" he growled.

"You are not a hero right now," she hissed under her breath, leaning in so only he could hear the words. "So stop trying to be one, for one goddamned second."

"What about Artemis and the other detective?" he countered, matching her glare with his own. "We can't just leave them behind!"

"You're the target right now Grayson, that makes you the priority. The Owls are going to be following you, which means we need to focus on _your_ safety." Her face softened by a fraction as she looked at Dick's face. "I know what you're thinking," she said softly, "and you're wrong."

For a few elongated moments they locked gazes, neither giving in. Then Dick relaxed his arm, tugging it back toward him once she released her grip.

"Let's move!" Batgirl said, ignoring the glare he still sent toward her. She didn't seem to understand; not acting like a hero was what had gotten him into this situation to begin with. So far, all that had achieved was getting an officer killed.

And then they were moving again, rushing down the corridor after Hernandez and the injured officer.

What he wouldn't give to be able to talk to Babs right now, not Batgirl. He was so tired of these masks. And not just the physical ones they wore when they went out on patrol. He was tired of leading this double life, a double life that today was growing exponentially more complicated by the hour. But it was pointless to think about right now. It was what it was.

He could understand where Batgirl was coming from, really, if he took half a second and put himself in her shoes. _He_ would have said the same thing if any other member of the Team were in his position right now. And it was standard mission operating procedure to secure the target. The more he put up a fuss, the more danger he was putting everyone else in this little group in. The rational, calculating part of his brain acknowledged this. The emotional side was still catching up.

The sound of gunshots echoed down the corridor behind them. "That sounds like Buckley," Hernandez panted, pausing to check around another corner. Seeing nothing, she walked into the open, Linda following behind her with Dick.

A moment after Hernandez rounded the corner, the Owl stepped out from behind where he'd been hiding, clearly lying in wait for them. Hernandez's eyes widened and she stumbled back, struggling to raise her gun in her free hand, her agility compromised by the injured officer leaning on her as the Owl leapt forward, a sword cutting down toward the detective.

Dick saw it all in a fraction of a second; Hernandez would be too slow to get her gun up. Batgirl was rounding the corner at this moment, looking over her shoulder covering their rear, and she wouldn't be able to move quickly enough to help Hernandez. The sword was already arcing down.

Dick reacted, plucking one of the knives out of the clipboard he still held on his lap and throwing it with perfect accuracy. It sliced into the Owl's shoulder, his arm immediately going limp and the sword clattering to the floor. Behind Dick, Linda gasped and dug her heels in, grinding them to a halt, just as Batgirl caught up to them. The Owl hissed in pain and lashed out with his other arm, but with the extra moment Dick had provided, Hernandez was able to defend herself. She released the injured officer and violently kicked the Owl's feet out from under him, jammed her knee into his spine and twisted his uninjured arm ruthlessly up behind his back as the injured officer stumbled back into the wall and slid down it, her face drawn.

Batgirl swore as Hernandez cuffed and disarmed the Owl and Linda rushed to the side of the injured officer. Batgirl's wide eyes traced the path from the knife in the Owl's shoulder to the clipboard in Dick's lap, now short one weapon.

" _What_ did I just say," she hissed, but Dick could tell the venom in her voice was mostly from the shock of being taken by surprise by the Owl rather than anger at him.

Dick was breathing hard from the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. His arm was still raised in front of him from throwing the knife, and he shakily lowered it back onto the armrest of the chair. He felt a little dizzy.

" _Shit_ ," said Batgirl suddenly from beside him. "You're bleeding!" She grabbed his arm, which Dick saw was indeed steadily bleeding.

"It's nothing," he said absently, trying to brush her off.

"You ripped out your IV before," she said. "You're bleeding all over the place!"

"It's not that much," he said critically, eyeing the wound. It really wasn't. He'd bled lots more than that on patrol before. So why was he dizzy? Dick shook his head. Probably the lingering effects of the pain killers he was on. He'd already been reacting strangely to them and no doubt they hadn't fully worn off yet. He hadn't even felt it when the IV ripped out.

"How many of these damn Owls are there?" said Hernandez from where she'd finished restraining their attacker.

"There are at least two left," said Batgirl. "Maybe more."

"We need to move _now_ ," said Hernandez, but was cut off by the sound of distant screams and the rattle of more bullets, this time from a semi-automatic weapon. And it was terrifyingly close.

"That's _not_ your partner!" said Batgirl. "And we're not going to get far with two people injured!"

Hernandez clenched her jaw and nodded, coming to a decision. "Change of plans, then. We take cover. You," she said, turning to Linda. "What's a place nearby we can defend? No windows, heavy doors."

Linda blinked for a moment, thinking. "That way," she said, pointing around the corner.

"Move!" said Batgirl, ushering the rest of them on. They rounded the corner without incident and Linda gestured toward the door labeled "Radiology." Inside it was empty—any staff that usually worked there wasn't there at this time of night. They found themselves in a sort of anteroom; the door behind them had a small window in it looking back into the hallway, and another door in front of them led to radiology proper, white and thick with shielding to protect from radiation.

Hernandez locked the first door and flattened herself against it, eyeing the corridor through the small window. "Take her," she said, passing the officer to Batgirl. "I'll cover the door." Batgirl nodded and supported the officer, following Dick and Linda through the second door.

Inside, Batgirl sat the officer down against the wall and pulled some bandages out of her belt and gave them to Linda, who began patching the woman up. Their situation was not good—radiology didn't have most of the medical supplies they needed, and it seemed they were stuck here for the time being. Either they would have to wait here for rescue, or make their last stand in this room.

Dick swallowed and took a few light shaky breaths. He felt out of breath, even though he hadn't been the one running. Probably—probably the adrenaline still, he thought. He blinked rapidly a few times, trying to breathe. He looked at the wound in his arm. It didn't look _that_ bad. Not that bad at all.

Batgirl stood and hurried back to Dick. Nobody had paused to turn the lights on when they came in, and her face was in shadow. "Grayson," she said in her Batgirl-voice. "Stay here with the nurse. And _don't_ try anything reckless."

He blinked. "Uh-huh," he said. His hand shook again, and he took another few shallow breaths. Batgirl's eyes snapped to his, assessing.

"Grayson?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. Her eyes moved to his wounded arm, but caught on his side instead. "Oh god," she breathed, kneeling next to him and pulling the gown he was wearing away from his side. Dick blinked again. There was blood on it. How did that get there?

"Fuck!" said Batgirl, immediately fishing more gauze out of her belt and pressing it to his side. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?" she demanded.

"Wha?" he said, confused. "Say what?"

"That you're bleeding everywhere!" she said. "Nurse!" she called. "Grayson needs help!"

"I didn' know. I swear, Bab-Batgirl," he stuttered. Shit. He shook his head, confused, as Linda rushed over.

Linda's eyes raced over his wound, assessing. "He must've pulled out his stitches," she said grimly. "Probably when he sprung out of bed before. Help me get him flat."

"Hey," he slurred. "That wuzza good thing. I avoided the…knives," he grunted as the two women hoisted him out of the wheelchair and Linda began applying pressure to his wound. "Ow! It…didn't _hurt_ this much before," he gasped.

"That's because you were high as a kite before," answered Linda calmly. "I'd wager you didn't notice this because your pain killers hadn't worn off enough yet. Now they have."

"Wonderful," he ground out, clenching his teeth. He caught a glimpse of the injured officer out of the corner of his eye, propped upright against the wall, her face pale from blood loss. "Wait," he said. "What about…her? She needs help more."

" _No_ , she doesn't," replied Linda, swiftly removing his old dressings, now soaked through with blood. "I've got her all patched up and she's stopped bleeding. She's going to be fine."

"But—" started Dick.

"But nothing," answered Linda. "I am the medical professional here, not you. Don't try to explain my business to me."

Dick blinked. "Sorry," he slurred, and Linda turned her attention back to his wound.

From outside, gunfire popped. Batgirl looked up sharply from where she was crouched at his side. "I need to go," she said. She met Dick's eyes for a moment.

Dick knew Babs. They knew each other a lot better than they even liked to admit to each other sometimes. On patrol in Gotham, they often held silent conversations—it was like when he and Batman talked without words, but it was something more than that too. Even out of the mask and cowl, they could read each other with the briefest of looks. Dick wasn't sure what she saw in him when she met his eyes in that moment, but when he met hers he saw a lot. More than anything, he could see she was angry, determined, and ready to kick some serious ass. But he could also see her anxiety, her concern, her reluctance to leave him bleeding on the floor, and under all of that…was it fear? Dick blinked. No. He was weak with blood loss and confused. Babs afraid? Never. Not possible.

He, on the other hand, was a little scared, and he doubted she didn't see it in his face. He was seriously _screwed_. He was hurt, trapped, and their enemy was relentless. He couldn't fight his way out of this one. There was no Batman coming to save him this time. He didn't doubt for a second that Babs would be fine—but he wasn't sure she'd be able to get him out of this. "Just…make sure Artemis and the other detective are okay," he whispered.

Her eyes flashed, and Dick knew she knew what he was thinking. He swallowed, and slid his hand across the linoleum, his fingers bumping into her hand where it rested on the floor. She glanced down at it, then back at him. So briefly he thought he might have imagined it, she squeezed his fingertips in her own. "They're going to be fine," she said firmly, "and so are you." Then she stood.

"Stay with him," she said to Linda, who nodded without looking, still focused on his injury, and then disappeared through the door.

Dick blinked. She hadn't looked like she was lying. If only he felt as certain as she did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whoop, Dick's not dead! Did you really think I would do that to y'all? ;) But I did leave him bleeding on the floor, so…don't hate me?
> 
> Okay, a few notes:
> 
> RE: The fight scene. A couple chapters ago I mentioned I had diagrammed a fight scene from this fic...well, it was this fight scene. Yes, I am ridiculous. If you would like to see said diagram, it's posted on my tumblr, batastrophe7.
> 
> Fun fact, I've been using the last names (but not first names) of old teachers of mine for almost all the OCs in this fic. The big exceptions are Hernandez and Buckley, who are a bit more important than other minor OCs. I had decided to name the nurse Linda months ago, and ended up picking the name Hunt after one of my old teachers, not realizing at first that it was a celebrity name. By the time I realized, I didn't want to change it to something else, so I ran with it!
> 
> RE: Dick and the painkillers, part 2—to reiterate, some side effects of opioid painkillers include (but are not limited to) sleepiness, strange or vivid dreams, confusion, and influencing mood and behavior, all of which play into Dick's behavior in this chapter and chapter 10. But on the other hand, Dick is a highly trained and skilled guy—they may affect him, but he's still sharp as a tack and has amazing reflexes. Even while medicated, I think Dick would have better reflexes than the average person. He's undergoing an odd mixture of being injured, influenced by his medication, and also having bat-training in this chapter.
> 
> Symptoms of blood loss include (but are not limited to) shallow breathing, dizziness, lightheadedness, profuse sweating, and confusion.
> 
> I'm just putting Dick through the wringer :(
> 
> Lastly, a note about the Court of Owls: when I first started writing this fic, I'd never actually read any comics with the Court of Owls (in fact, I'd read very few comics at all). I just kinda used them because I needed a Batman villain that was more of an organization that might try to kill someone and wasn't the League of Shadows/Assassins. Since then, I went and read the Court of Owls arc in the comics, and I've realized I was pretty off in my portrayal of them in the first chapter they appear in. I tried to bring them back around to how they're usually portrayed a bit in this chapter—more knives, fewer guns—but I also don't want to straight-up retcon my own work. I'm saying that the Owls will use any weapon they feel like, so guns are still on the table. I'm also not really using the idea that all Talons are resurrected people…mainly because I think that's a little silly, even for a Batman story. I envision these assassins to be people the Court kidnapped/recruited that are highly trained killers, but only the elite of them are considered Talons…yeah. Something along those lines.
> 
> The next chapter isn't finished yet, (sobs) so no guarantees about when it will be posted. I will aim for two weeks, but I'll be traveling next week so I make no promises.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments are always appreciated! :)


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